The Royal Guardian
by Sokai
Summary: After learning about an unexpected and utterly surprising family secret, Will Vandom is forced to learn how to effectively juggle her now exceedingly busy life. The plus side? Never a dull moment.
1. Chapter One

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims, so thought I'd mention it once within this disclaimer LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _So . . . hey. How's it going? LoL So, right. Don't know why, but this idea had come to me the other day. Halloween, to be more precise. LoL Long story, do not ask. But the point is, after hearing a lot of "complaints" from several people of how the animated series is a bit . . . biased, I suppose I will safely say (so no one comes to attack me, as I try to keep my personal views as completely out of my writing as possible), I thought, why not with this idea? And besides, it should not really **really **be hard to write (even though it will have a bit of a "The Princess Diaries" feel to it. But trust me, it ISN'T a X'over with it, or rip-off or any of that. But if it comes off that way to some of you, don't read it. Yay. LoL), considering the majority of the story is taken from personal "episodes" of mine . . . What is Sokai talking about? Which aspect to this story is she referring to when she says it's based on personal things? Stay tuned, everybody! LoL_

_Oh, and yes the other stories will be updated (I'm kind of taking a writing break right now, and mainly doing Beta Reading, but I'd still wanted to get this one up before I lost motivation to at LEAST do that LoL).  
_

* * *

This story/chapter was created in October 2006.

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Tuesday, October 31st**

Dear Diary,

Will Vandom here again, to fill you in on the latest news going on within my relatively humdrum life.

Sorry.

I suppose that, after three years of friendship and Guardian of the Veil camaraderie with Miss Irma Lair, her comedic personality was bound to rub off onto me sooner or later (not to mention the fact that Irma _is_ the head manager and Dee Jay to Sheffield High's radio station. No surprise _there_, really, given that she _oozes_ with animated entertainment on a daily basis -- in addition to having been the ex-front liner to the radio station at our _old_ school, Sheffield Institute).

Still weird to have written my last name just now though (and Irma's, come to think of it), as though anyone would ever read this besides me.

I mean, I'm _me_: I can recall my own name, after all -- after seventeen years of existence? I would _hope _so!

And besides, _you_, dear diary, are just a mere journal anyhow. It isn't like you could ever say my name back if you'd ever wanted to (unless you have some unknown mechanic or electrical parts and wiring. In_ that_ case, stand back, because I've got the magical "know-how" to make you say your very first words, being the Keeper of the Heart of Candracar and all that).

But _that's_ probably the main reason that I write all of my secrets into you at _all_.

_Actually_, thinking upon it further, you, journal, are more than just a mere writing outlet. You are the perfect "best friend," because_ I _do all of the "talking," and _you_ just listen objectively without ever being able to give your unwanted "two-cents."

Kind of like someone _else_ I know.

No. That's not completely fair. I'm just kind of writing out of frustration right now.

Well, about _this_ particular piece of reflection, anyway.

Because, I mean, I _love_ Cornelia. I really do.

She is one among _four_ of the best friends that I am lucky enough to possess, after all (given my _lousy_ track record of encountering untrustworthy individuals in the past), and was one of the first friends,_ period_, that I'd made when first having moved here to Heatherfield with my mother.

I mean, Cornelia and I have battled, side by side, on a daily basis practically (although not lately, thankfully, as things have died down on the western front that is Metamoor. Or, would it be more accurate to have instead said "the other _plane of existence_ front that is Metamoor?" Whatever. Three years, and the fact that there are apparently other worlds beyond _this_ one _still _never ceases to amaze me. Go fig.), as the mystical and mighty Guardians of the Veil, saving the world one villain at a time!

Okay, so that last line sort of ruined the heroic, dynamic flare that I was trying to convey, while explaining "W.I.T.C.H."'s very important role as protectors of the innocent, adverse, and forlorn . . .

Although, having written _that_ little synopsis _definitely_ made it worse. Total "Superman" homage moment right there. Allow me to lay the blame swiftly upon the shoulders of Irma's little brother, Christopher, for always going on and _on_ about each, and every single superhero that he knows about and worships whenever I go over to the Lair residence.

But I shall digress, as I actually did and still do have a very valid point to my fevered rant.

What I was trying to get at, was that the bond between me and Cornelia simply cannot get any closer than how it stands right now, seeing as we regularly risk our necks for one another. We are _so_ close that we are practically _sisters_, for pity's sake!

Negating her actual blood-related, little sister, Lilian, I would be the sister Cornelia would quite possibly consider to be a breath of fresh air. You know, given that while she _does_ fight with _me_ on occasion (a pass time most often actuated during one of our Guardian missions), it is Lilian with whom she usually wages an all-out war with, _pretty_ much Sunday through Saturday.

And as for _my_ "benefits?" Being an only child, Cornelia would be the sister -- sibling, _period_ -- whom I've never had.

The _downside_ to that, however? She would also be the sister who just happens to be dating the guy who I am secretly in love with, and have been for two years now.

Yep. That's right. I am finally writing and admitting within this several month old diary of mine that I, Wilhelmina Vandom (Ugh. Totally cannot stand my full name. Makes me sound like some stuffy old Librarian who lives at home alone with her twelve cats, and oodles upon oodles of photo albums scattered everywhere, all filled with old newspaper clippings of "Yesteryear"), am head over heels in love with my best friend's boyfriend.

Caleb.

_Caleb_.

I could so totally write (and say, which I have, of course, but in private) his name over and over, and never grow tired of it (even though I might develop a _seriously_ bad case of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome as a result. But you know that it would _so_ be worth it).

Do you know that I'd once "Google'd" up his name to see what it'd meant? One of those baby name websites had come up, and it had said that it means "dog" in Hebrew. Something about how, within the Old Testament, "Caleb" was the name of one of the twelve spies sent by Moses into Israel.

I don't really know anything beyond that, and _even_ that completely baffled me to try to officially comprehend.

All that I _do_ know for sure is that, as mean as it sounds, Caleb's name meaning is _completely_ fitting.

Well, when it comes to his romantic relationship with Cornelia (whose name turned out to mean "horn" in Latin. Well, she_ is_ a Taurus and_ unbelievably_ headstrong, so I suppose that her _name_ meaning is fitting, as well.), that is.

Don't get me wrong. Despite my _extremely_ well hidden feelings for the green-eyed, brown haired ex-Rebel Leader of Meridian, I am totally and _completely_ one-hundred percent behind his ongoing commitment to the beautiful Earth Guardian.

Why _shouldn't_ I (well, besides the obvious reason)?

It was basically written within the _stars_ that those two were destined to be together. I mean, Cornelia even used to _dream_ about Caleb _well_ before they two had even met and vice versa, for God's sake!

How can anyone or any_thing_ honestly be able to defuse something _that_ epic and so _Harlequin Romance_-like?

And even if I'd honestly had enough nerve to go after Caleb (and thus obviously disregarding _Cornelia's_ feelings, and not to mention run the ultimately _huge _risk of losing her treasured friendship as a result), it would most _definitely_ all be in vain.

Why?

Oh, I don't know. Let's make a list, shall we?

1. While I may be seventeen (with thankfully active mammary growth glands that help to accentuate my relatively athletic body, courtesy of all of the swimming that I do. Well, accentuates everything except my slightly nonexistent breasts, sadly. Boy, was _my_ Guardian form a bit misleading in that respect.), I still have all of the insecurities and hangups I'd possessed from when I was fourteen, thus certifying me as a walking _basket case_

2. My bob-styled red hair continues to be a bit _unruly,_ and honestly sometimes resembles that of _Raggedy Ann's_ (especially after I'd woken up in the morning)

3. (What I consider the most significant of all three reasons) I'm barely awarded two _words_ from Caleb whenever he and I are within the same room together, and _not _discussing anything Guardian-related (as sadly, that seems to be the only thing we share in common. And if _Cornelia's_ in the same room as the two of us? _Forget_ it. I'm absolute _vapor_.)

And now, let us compare this list to the list of reasons why Cornelia continues to have Caleb wrapped around her flawless, well-manicured finger, and has him practically_ drooling _whenever she comes into sight:

1. Although she is also athletic (what with all of the figure skating she's done over the years), her body is _still _far more perfect and superior than mine will _ever_ be

2. Her waist-length, shimmering blonde and supermodel-like locks _never _has even _ one_ hair out of place, and serves to only _further_ compliment her breathtaking beauty

3. Every guy who comes into contact with her usually immediately wants to date her, and to be her faithful servant dog (which is how _Caleb_ acts four days out of seven, really, and is primarily why I'd said that his name meaning is befitting)

Okay. So Caleb isn't _exactly_ some mindless puppet or something (although, technically, he'd _used_ to be, when he was once one of Prince Phobos's Murmurers, before developing a will of his own. But that's beside the point. _Kind_ of.). After all, if he _was_, then I _definitely_ wouldn't be in love with him and find him so endearing and dreamy, and neither would _Cornelia_, I'm pretty positive.

And I will also admit that I am far from the poster child for "World's Most Unattractive Creature in All of Existence."

I have had my fair share of dates and admirers over the years, including my _own_ steady relationship for a few months with ex-boyfriend-now-best-friend, Matt Olsen (who is the only living soul to know of my heart's hidden desire to be with Caleb. Not like I'd had a _choice_ in keeping it a continued secret from Matt, as I do everyone _else_. Let's just say that he wasn't bluffing when he'd always tell me that he can read me like a book, because that was precisely how he'd been able to see and figure out how I'd felt about Caleb -- _well_ before _I_ had. It's simply a shame that it had to have been while Matt and I were still dating at the time that he'd realized it, and that Caleb and Cornelia had made _their_ relationship official by the time that _I'd_ finally realized it, as well. Still, you have _no_ idea how great it feels to at _least_ have_ one_ person to vent about your amorous emotions for someone to . . . even_ if _that person happens to be your ex-boyfriend.).

But I am still no Helen of Troy. _Cornelia_, on the other hand, is and _then_ some, with Caleb as her Paris.

. . . Which would at last bring me to the main topic of discussion for this entry.

Tonight's Halloween Ball.

I'd been looking forward to since _July_, months before the new semester of Junior year had even begun.

It was all _anyone_ attending Sheffield High had been looking forward to and gushing about, actually.

Because . . .

Oh, shoot. _Right_ when I finally get to the most important bit of this long winded entry, _that_ is when Mom decides to call me down to do the dishes.

Can't a girl have a bit of rest and a moment's peace from a long, _torturing _night of heartache?

**-- End of Chapter One  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Fun? No? Sorry. Was fun for me though, because it was in first person, which meant that I didn't have to worry about the whole beaucoup descriptive text. AND, because it's Will's diary, I didn't have to worry about doing character intros for the girls as I normally do for my other W.I.T.C.H. stories. You know, "just in case" someone reading those stories doesn't know who's who and what's what. Just me being "politically correct" or whatever. LoL Not really. **

**ANYWAY! I know Will seemed like she was ragging on Cornelia, or that my own personal feelings towards her was filtering in. It wasn't, and she wasn't. Just her lamenting over the fact that she likes a guy who is unavailable. I've done it all of the time in the past growing up, with all of the diaries I'VE owned/written in, are you kidding me? LoL**

**But right. It'll get better and a bit more interesting. Honestly? I'll probably keep it in "diary-mode," I don't know. We'll see. Later!)**


	2. Chapter Two

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Yikes. So quick you "all" were to pounce upon this story. Woo. Whatever your reason for it, thank you! Anyway, some of you had asked if this story will be entirely in diary-mode. Honestly, I don't know yet. I'm tempted to, but mainly because I am lazy right now, writing-wise. LoL And since I write in journals (manual or online) religiously, chapter updates would be far more frequent since it comes so naturally. But yeah. We'll see._

_And yes, obviously it's P.D.-flavored a tick, but it's still W.I.T.C.H. I'll still include Guardian missions and that "world," alongside everything else I'll put Will through, etc. So no worries. Just enjoy. LoL  
_

* * *

This story/chapter was created in November 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**Tuesday, October 31st, 10:45 pm**

Dear Diary,

Okay. So I'm back and ready to continue my ranting escapade. Mom had suddenly decided to go all out with asking me to do various chores -- which, to be honest,_ isn't _that much of a stretch.

But what _is_ surprising about it is that, this is actually the first time in a few days that she's been able to stand being within the same room as me for more than fifteen _seconds _(which, for _her_, is _tremendously_ perplexing, her avoiding me, as this is the same woman who'd threatened to move us away from Heatherfield because we were not solidifying well as a family), as _well_ as maintain eye contact.

If Mom sees me coming,_ lately_ the "tactic" has been her trying _very _hard to keep herself as busy as possible in order to, I _suppose_, distract herself from my presence and _whatever_ might be bothering her . . . _about_ me? Maybe? I don't know.

It's just odd to see Mom act this way -- as though our roles have been reversed, with _me_ as the parental unit and _her_ as the secretive kid.

All that I _do _know for sure is that, whatever's bugging her, I don't think that it's _school _related (or else she would be all over me by now -- _trust _me . . . even though she doesn't actually have a reason or "right" to. Not _yet_, anyway. The semester may have only just started, but I'm not doing that bad -- and that _includes_ my math class.).

Note to self: find out what's the matter with my mother, right after I've finished writing this entry _and_ obsessing over Caleb.

Although, in _that_ case, I don't suppose then, that I'll _ever_ find out, since I seem to continue getting sidetracked, and Caleb _is_ pretty much my life.

But _anyway_, back to the more important matter: the Halloween Ball.

The big talk of the town (well, for we "_young_ people," anyway).

The only, _main_ reason that everyone had been supremely excited about it, was because of the fact that it was being held at multi-billionaire Edwin "Eddie" Benoni's _beyond_ huge mansion.

Seventeen year old Eddie is the extremely lucky, _extremely_ wealthy heir to the prestigious Benoni Empire, courtesy of his great-great-grandfather, Claude Benoni. An apparently famous painter-turned-art-collector, Claude's wise and strategic financial ventures had ultimately awarded him and his descendants an _overabundant_ accumulation of wealth that _continues_ to expand as each day passes.

Needless to say, Eddie is _guaranteed_ to live a life free of financial woes.

Lucky.

But, basically? To put it frank, Eddie and his family come pretty close to making Bill Gates look like a _welfare_ case.

Did you know that the guy even had a whole school assembly dedicated to him and his family's exploits during the first day of school and his first week in Heatherfield last year, after moving from Paris (which is why I'd known all of that family history, since I've _otherwise_ never heard of him _or _his family before. I generally don't pay much attention to anything revolving around politics, economics, or anything else of that nature. Too small an attention span for that, and besides -- I like things that are _fun_, not to _mention_ that my intended career will not at _all_ involve that _or _evil math.)?

All _I_ can say is, it's a good thing that Eddie's pretty nice and down to Earth for an extremely powerful individual, or else I would find it a bit unnerving that he already dominates the town in popularity (then again, after all that I'd just written about him, why am I honestly surprised?).

I mean, after all, his family _is_ so rich that it could buy an entire_ country_ if ever the desire had arisen.

And he's _especially_ favored by the ladies, which I can't honestly fault them for.

At six feet, two inches tall, with his athletic, muscular body, caramel colored hair and green eyes that shimmer brightly in beautiful contrast against his mocha hued complexion, Eddie could (and probably _has_) grace the covers of the world's top fashion magazines or what have you.

Even Hay Lin (despite her being blissfully happy within her _own_ steady relationship with boyfriend, Eric Lyndon, for the past year and a half) seems to be a bit taken with him. Although, it could be, at least within_ her_ case, due the fact that his family owns and also trades, I'm sure, every kind of painting within _existence_.

And being a _tremendously_ talented artist, _herself_, it would be a smart move, in _my_ opinion, for Hay Lin to get buddy-buddy with him (that is, if his three bulky, _Men In Black_-resembling bodyguards don't either tackle, or worse, _Taser_ her for trying to do so _first_).

Even _I_ will admit that, I too find Eddie to be quite the dish; however, my heart still loyally-yet-_deplorably_ lies with Caleb.

Besides, like it'd even _matter_ if I _did _honestlywant Eddie, though -- I, or any _other_ girl, frankly.

Since, for all the best efforts every available (and yes, even the _un_available) girl has attempted to vie for his affection (and of course, for possibly his _money_), lucky _Irma_ is the one whom Eddie has apparently chosen to wine and dine.

Well, _try_ to wine and dine, anyhow.

For _whatever_ reason, Irma simply is not interested in Eddie (or so she _says_, at least), despite his best efforts to impress the distinct Water Guardian. Her frequent explanation (or _excuse_) to deflecting his advances usually sounds something like: "Because I don't do _well_ with the 'flashy' type. Look at how I am with _Cornelia --_ turbulence _city_."

Honestly, the girls and I think that Irma is, perhaps suffering from a bout of severe Inferiority Complex or something (a concept that interrelates well to _me_ at times, sadly) -- which is absolutely _ridiculous_ because she is phenomenal.

Heck. Irma could negotiate extra hours of _daylight_ out of the _sun_ if she'd wanted to and wasn't quite yet ready for nightfall, she's _that_ persuasive and unequivocal.

And she_ is_, after all, the main reason why Eddie had decided to throw a monumental Halloween bash in the first place.

Irma vehemently disagrees, but the rest of us all believe that it had been because Eddie had listened to her give a little rant on the school's radio, about "how much more enjoyable and _creepy _Halloween _could_ have been, had the school dance been held within a haunted _house_, instead of the school's _non_-haunted _gym._"

It was _one_ proclamation that had awarded Irma a day within detention, plus _three _days suspension from the radio, as Principal Kerin Brooks had deemed it "dangerously close to outright disrespect for the school, thus inciting a potential _riot._"

A little note. Principal Brooks may be a _poodle_ in comparison to Sheffield Institute's Principal Knickerbocker's rottweiler-like demeanor where discipline is concerned, but he still has his moments of cracking down the whip . . . even _if _it may sometimes be within an unjust capacity.

Still, Irma is, by _now_, "Public Enemy Number One" with authority figures, which we've all always found pretty_ ironic_, given that she has a police detective for a father. You would think that being something of a "Miss Goody-Two-Shoes" would be her "raison d'être" or something, after having lived under Mr. Lair's strict rules for the past seventeen years.

But what am I saying? Then Irma would no longer be Irma.

I digress once _again_, though, because my brain is _so _completely disheveled from tonight's events . . .

So as I was saying, despite the uncalled for punishment for Irma's expressive broadcast as a downside, Eddie had nonetheless found it intriguing, because the next thing we students and faculty know, we were invited, a whole _year _in advance, to attend his mansion-hosted Halloween Ball.

Even though everyone -- Irma _included _-- was excited about it and had thanked her for having spoken her mind to prompt Eddie to throw this ball for her, Irma had _also_ spent a good majority of last year _and_ this summer_ disclaiming_ it.

"It was _Eddie's_ idea -- not _mine_. I can't help it that he was listening to my show that day, or that he agreed with me that last year's dance blew. _Besides_, I'd never said _anything_ about turning it into a freaking _ball_! What are we? _Aristocrats_,or something?" has been her steady, defensive reply to anyone who would comment, sounding completely opposed to the idea of dressing up in some munificent costume, or something along those lines when going to Eddie's planetary house.

Of course, though, by the time that this new school year had approached and this month _especially_, Irma's tone and outlook had changed, as both she and Cornelia led the way within our "W.I.T.C.H." group (with Taranee and Hay Lin tied in a close second) as the most excited, and struggling to shop for the best costume.

And _that_ was where my little plan had begun to set in my ongoing attempt to gain Caleb's attention.

I'd realized that the ball would be the perfect setting to mesmerize him with my blossoming beauty (okay, then) . . . _Such_ a total "Cinderella" moment, with the immaculate, dazzling attire, hair and make up. Something that would _completely _outdo whatever_ Cornelia_ had planned on wearing.

And I could definitely get away with it too -- going all out in the charisma department, I mean. I'd figured that if anyone had grown suspicious as to why Will Vandom, the tomboy who usually chooses to don a pair of overalls over a _miniskirt_ any day (not like I'd have the supreme guts to sport one of those, _anyway_. At least, not in broad _daylight_ and/or in _public,_ period.), would be suddenly morphing herself into a Beauty Pageant contestant, instead of into some ghoul for this year's Halloween, I could just lie.

Shell out some excuse like, "Well, it _is_ a 'ball,' even if it is also Halloween-oriented, after all. There might be a prize for 'Best Non-Grizzly Costume' or whatever."

Hey. _I'd _believe that.

So _anyway_, I had spent the end of last Spring, the _entire _Summer, and last month working like a _madwoman_ and saving up enough money to buy this _really_ neat medieval, eggshell colored ball gown dubbed the "Queen Guinevere," with a flowing silhouette train speckled with gold that was attached to the bodice area.

I'd _instantly_ fallen in love with it the very moment that I'd spotted it in passing, while visiting my dad back in Fadden Hills last Christmas.

I mean, _talk_ about a Cinderella kind of dress for a Cinderella kind of event, huh? If _this_ wasn't a sign of good things to come, I didn't know what _else_ could have been.

There were only two catches, though. The first being that I don't _exactly_ look the _best_ in dresses. It's not like I look _horrible_ within them, don't get me wrong. I personally think that I clean up pretty nicely within them. Still, I knew that I was nonetheless in for some _massive_ refitting and altering of this gown if I'd bought it.

The second catch? To buy it at _all_, I would have to order it online, because when I'd gone into the store to ask about it, the lady at the front desk told me that the one within the window was for display only, and that their stock was extremely limited.

Let me tell you, the price for it was pretty steep (hence all of the overtime working I had to do), but super worth it if it would mean that I would have, at the very least, five minutes of Caleb's time. Besides, the lady had also informed me that they were taking down the display gown to put up other, brand new gowns that they'd just received in stock, so that had given me a bit of reassurance that there would be absolutely _no _way that anyone else would have my gown.

Right?

WRONG!

I don't know why I was so amazed, though, honestly, because it's my luck.

And also my _fault_.

Because before I'd left for the ball, stating to the girls earlier on that I would just meet them there as a way to suspend the surprise of what I was wearing, I'd shared a quick telephone call with Taranee about our continued excitement over it all, which had gone something like this:

Taranee: (Squeals in excitement, voice slightly strained as though pulling something on) Can you believe that we are _actually_ going to see the inside of Eddie's_ colossal_ mansion in less than half an hour? _Finally_?

Me: (Busy being distracted by the for once flawless reflection gazing back at me within the bathroom mirror) I know, Ranee. But I'll bet that _no_ one's more excited about this than Eddie, _himself_, since he'll finally have his "beloved Irma" inside of his living quarters.

Taranee: (Laughs in agreement) _Tell_ me about it. Too bad Nigel had managed to get himself _grounded _for his stupid Halloween prank on Sutterville's football team last week, or else he could have played my "Prince Aladdin." But I guess that _Martin_ will have to do for tonight.

Me: (Still finding it hard to envision still a bit scrawny, although now taller Martin Tubbs as the rugged, hero-type) Oh yeah, that's right, "_Princess Jasmine_." I'm sure that your highness will find _another_ "Aladdin" lookalike dwelling within the platoon of guests who will be there tonight, in case you grow tired of Martin's corny jokes.

Taranee: _Speaking_ of "doppelgangers," I certainly hope that no one has the same costume as us. Probably will, but I still hope that they won't be _massively_ identical, anyway. But we, of course, won't have to worry about Miss _Cornelia_ pulling a repeat with anyone there, as _her _costumes are _always_ original every year.

Me: (Heart jumps a bit at the mention of Cornelia and her possible vesture for the evening, feeling worried for the first time that night that maybe it might be something similar to what _I'd_ bought) Uh . . . Y-yeah. Yeah, but you never know. She might have just gone with something "_normal_," like a _vampire_ costume, just to get us talking at the drastic turnaround.

Taranee: (Scoffs, before hanging up) _Highly_ doubt that. Hay was on the phone with her while Hay was instant messaging me, and she said that Cornelia's costume "is _definitely_ going to turn heads." But I ask you, Will: was there _ever _really any doubt of that?

So, you can imagine, by _that_ point, my nerves had reached level three and a half out of five. Because I'd immediately thought to myself,_ What if her costume really does turn heads? Namely, Caleb's, and to the point that no matter how "beautiful" I may look right now tonight, it will be no match against Cornelia's impenetrable forcefield of elegance?_

But, no. Nooooooo. I just _had_ to have faith that things would go my way, in _spite_ of that obvious foreshadowing of _doom_.

Silly me.

Did my best to suck it up and I'd arrived at Eddie's mansion estate just fine, along with the _other_ twenty thousand people filtering into his place. I'd decided to hang back, though, and make a bit of a late entrance, so that the chances of being spotted by Caleb would have been greater.

So that's exactly what I did.

And would you believe me if I'd told you that the entire "opening scene" to this night's event had been _just_ like in "Cinderella" (Did I mention in past entries that "Cinderella" happens to be one of my all-time favorite Disney movies? Hence my frequent reference to it, of course.)? You know, the part where she arrives at Prince Charming's ball late, just like I had to Eddie's, and had to descend that grand, beautiful staircase -- which in turn earned her her first class ticket straight into her future husband's heart from then on out?

Well, _I_ had to do the very same, because after getting out of Eddie's elevator (Yes, _elevator_. Taranee and I weren't kidding when we'd stated that the Benoni mansion is an _astronomic_ wonder.) that had taken me to the floor that was holding the shindig, I'd found myself standing at the top of a _very_ long stairwell.

_Best_ of all? Not _only_ did I spot a "Tarzan"-resembling Caleb (with the loincloth and everything. Yumtastic.) amongst the growing crowd of people, I also did _not_ see Cornelia anywhere in sight, period.

For once, Caleb was alone.

Well, not _exactly_ alone, as he was busy talking about something apparently really funny at the refreshment table with Eric (who was dressed as Elvis, pre-Rhinestone jumpsuit era), Aladdin-Martin, and his date (for the _night_, at least), Jasmine-Taranee. But who _cared_? The point was, I knew that _this_ moment would be as good as any to capture his attention.

And so, even though my heart had been pounding within my chest and I felt as though I was about two seconds away from passing out (because, besides wanting -- no, _needing_ to do this, I was never fond of congested attention. And with a room full of _fifty billion_ people? It wouldn't get any _more_ congested than that), I'd managed to maintain enough wits about me to get Taranee's attention via the mind, knowing that she would hear my thoughts, turn her attention to the staircase and thus trigger the_ guys'_ attention toward it as well.

Sure enough, right as I'd begun to descend the staircase, my bland, brown eyes had _gloriously_ locked with Caleb's _brilliant_ emerald gems, and in that moment I'd felt myself swiftly ascend onto cloud nine.

Because his expression had shown with utter intrigue and captivation when he'd looked at me.

And then a warm, even _adoring_ smile had spread across his tanned, flawless visage, as though he hadn't seen anyone more beautiful . . .

In that moment, I had known that finally, FINALLY all of my dreams were about to come true, because Caleb was at last seeing the great inner beauty that even I was aware lay deep within me.

Okay. We can snap out of the _fantasy world_ now.

_True _version? Oh, he _did_ look up towards the staircase with the others. Heck, he even _had_ smiled in the way that I'd described.

But it wasn't for me. Nor had he been _looking_ at me in the first place. _I_ had been looking at _him_, but _he_, of course, had been fixated upon someone _else_.

Three guesses as to whom _that _might have been.

Apparently, Cornelia had had the same idea that _I_ had with wanting to make a grand entrance (duh-_UH_), because the _next_ thing I know, I can hear her familiar voice behind me, saying, "_Oh_, my _God_, Will! No _way_! I guess great minds think alike, because we have the same _exact_ gown! I'm surprised, since -- no _offense_, it's pretty _pricey_! Still, no one will mistake us for _twins_, since -- no offense _again_, I pull it off _better_."

Remember what I said about feeling like I could pass out? Close _enough_, in regard to what had happened next.

I turned around, saw Miss Cornelia all dolled up wearing indeed the very same Queen Guinevere gown that I was (only _she_ looked _far_ more bonny within it, as expected and as she'd _blatantly_ stated). A happy smirk had then riddled itself straight across her peaches and cream, blemish-free complexion as she looked from me to her boyfriend, and before I knew it, in my startled upset, found myself falling backwards with an _extremely_ loud yelp.

Down, down, _down_ I'd tumbled, half praying to live and half praying for _death_, because I knew that if the fall honestly didn't killed me, the extreme embarrassment I would _undoubtedly_ feel thereafter _would_.

Miraculously (although, now that I think about it, not_ really_, because I suspect that Cornelia had swiftly used her Telekinetic abilities to ensure a safe landing for my unfortunate fall down Eddie's sea of stairs. _How_ ironic is _that_, that my savior is the _also _technically the "_enemy_?"), I'd made it down all right, with my _body_ in tact but _pride_ all _asunder_.

I don't know if anyone had rushed to my side to assist, and I don't even _want _to know. Because as soon as I'd regained my footing, I'd hightailed it out of the nearest exit, and out of the mansion altogether.

I _do_ know that, of _course_, Caleb _had _to have seen the entire debacle (who _didn't_?), and probably laughed along with everyone _else_ I'd heard beginning to do as I ran away.

So here I am, back within the safety of my bedroom, still dressed within my once-beautiful, now-wrinkled and _hideous_ (to_ me_, anyway) gown and with hair out of place, avoiding all of the phone calls and e-mails I've been getting from the girls (Hey. That's _another_ reason why I know something's _definitely_ up with my mom. I'd come home far too early than she was supposed to expect me, looking like I've just been _mugged_, and she didn't even _try_ to pressure me into an explanation, as she usually does. Odd, but the one good thing to happen tonight.).

The _plus_ side to all of this, is that I at least now look more like the original me: scruffy and low-maintenance. _That'll _teach me to pull a glam-moment.

I have _no_ clue how I can face going to school tomorrow. There is just no_ way_. Pretty sad too, considering that I can look possible _death_ within the eye on a daily basis during Guardian missions, but _cannot_ deal with social isolation.

I mean, facing everyone on the _planet_ who'd been at the ball is going to be bad enough, but to have to see _Caleb_ continue to look straight through me with decreased respect or something -- just end me now, please.

Hmm, I wonder if Mom will believe me if I tell her that I've just suddenly contracted the extremely lethal disease of "Mortified Teenageritis."

**-- End of Chapter Two**

* * *

**(A.N. That was fun. Not really. Maybe. I don't know. LoL Anyone want to date my cousin, Alex? Cuz Eddie's based off of him . . . except Alex's hair is more blonde and his complexion is more caramel as the reverse. And then Eddie's great-great-grandpop was based upon mine/Alex's, so that was fun too. LoL Oh. And Principal Brooks is based upon a mixture of MY high school and middle principals, Mr. Kerins, and then Mr. Brooks. BOTH were nice, but extremely useless. LoL**

**Anyway, it was kinda fun writing about a true event . . . sadly. YES, I admit it. What happened to Will, happened to me when I was seventeen too, ironically, but a far less lavish party. Still was trying to impress my latest crush, though, just like Will for Caleb. Was NOT a fun few weeks after that for me in school, lemme tell you. Blug. Actually, a lot of this diary entry of Will's was true junk for me. Well, minus Cinderella being my fave movie. It's my older sister's, who is very happy to hear of Cinderella III coming out in February. Sounds A LOT better than the second one. LoL But yeah, the same gown, the ball, the embarrassment had all happened to me . . . Only the embarrassment happened when I'd just told you, and the ball and gown wearing happened this Halloween. Fun. LoL**

**Anyway, poor Will. Still don't know if I'll keep this in diary-mode, but a lot of you seem to prefer that I do. For now, it will be, but still let me know and leave "votes" on yay/nay to keeping the ENTIRE story in this manner, please. Yay. LoL)**


	3. Chapter Three

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _OMG. You like me! You REALLY like me! And just when I was thinking of retiring from this site, too. But now suddenly my reputation is preceding me. Sweet. LoL Anyway! 16 reviews for two chapters. Rockin'. Thanx SO much for liking it so far, and being so "shocked" that I'm actually updating basically everyday. I know, it IS surprising. LoL But it's only cuz this is a humor-oriented, first person story, which is supremely easy to generate cuz there's less worry for being "grammatically correct" or descriptive. So yep. LoL And I'm glad you don't seem to mind that it's in diary-mode; a lot of you prefer I keep it that way. For now, I will, but when I get into the story's plot later on I wonder if I should change it to be more descriptive . . ._

_Anyway! Enjoy this (super) short, but still humorous/relative entry!  
_

* * *

This (short) story/chapter was created in November 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**Wednesday, November 1st, Homeroom**

**TOP FIVE REASONS WHY IT IS NEVER A GOOD IDEA TO PUBLICLY HUMILATE YOURSELF IN HEATHERFIELD**

1. Being that this is a relatively small town, there is not exactly a whole lot of   
scrambling time to waste in order to seek out ears to divulge juicy tidbits into.

2._ Being_ that this is a relatively small town, _said_ town is (_unfortunately_) usually and  
pretty much all present at the time of your cataclysmic befalling, and so therefore  
word would not at all take very long to travel (which, in turn, doubly reinforces  
reason number one).

3. People atop the social hierarchy (i.e. Cheerleaders and Jocks) live for the latest  
gossip and for lowly social _rejects_ to do something horrendously humiliating to fuel  
their continued reign and dominion _over_ said poor and defenseless creatures. It _is_,  
after all, their sustaining life force to do so.

4. Having to go to public areas (i.e. the worst possible place: _school_) immediately _after  
_a social tragedy, similar to _my_ "shining moment," and listen to every _excruciating  
_detail of it being broadcasted via radio station into each, and _every_ room (_including_  
the bathrooms, the one place where you are guaranteed relative peace and refuge  
from the ongoing torment).

5. Teachers and other members of faculty taking actual _pity_ upon you, and relaying  
embarrassing stories from _their_ days of youth as a mechanism for comfort, while at  
the _same_ time publicly _defending _you in front of your _entire class_.

**-- End of Chapter Three  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Short, I told ya. LoL Gross, too: only 595 words. I feel so . . . dirty. LoL MY average is usually 2 to 3,000 min., a billion max. LoL And yes, this was a bit P.D. flavored definitely, for this one, but honestly it's more like MY diary flavor more so, cuz before that whole series came out, I used to make lists like that all the time in some entries LoL But anyway, no, this isn't me trying to squeeze out more reviews from you. Review/don't review. This is just me trying to keep it as "real" as possible and from Will's perspective about what's happened. Plus, she IS in school/class right now and she, like Mia, never has much time to write much during that time. So bleh. LoL Four should be up very soon cuz I'm already halfway done.)**


	4. Chapter Four

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _22 freaking reviews for just three chapters. I love you guys. LoL Anyway, so yeah, SO far the strong verdict is to keep this in diary mode. Roger that. LoL In contrast, a few of you have expressed a desire to have each chapter be longer. Kinda thought they were, negating this last one. Well, not long for/to ME, but it still sufficed, I'd thought. Anyways, I don't really want to overload each entry with stuff since it IS in diary mode and Will's telling the story, cuz then by the time I get to the main plot there will be no point to continue cuz I'd/Will repeated everything. Just be patient. (For now) I know what I'm doing with this little baby. LoL_

_Enjoy._

* * *

This chapter was created in November 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**Wednesday, November 1st, Biology**

Actually, now that I look at this list of mine in my last entry, I regrettably realize that it can and _does_ extend _far_ beyond the mere five that I've listed, but I haven't the stomach to do so.

I mean, it's bad enough that I just had insult being _further _added to injury a few minutes ago, when Martin came up to me once he entered the classroom.

Yeah.

He strolls up to me with a lopsided, sympathetic grin spread across his upside down triangle shaped face and makes a pit stop at my lab desk before traveling to his own directly behind me.

What came out of his _ChapStick_-smeared mouth, you ask? The one thing that I wasn't in _any _sort of mood to hear, which was: "It's okay, 'Willinator;' I can relate."

_It's okay, Willinator; I can relate_.

What is _that_? Did Martin honestly think that _that_ was going to make me feel any better? By calling me by the nickname he'd first given to me during Freshman year, after becoming the very first female he's ever encountered who happens to be a die hard fan of the movie, _The Terminator._ (Talk about being a bit sexist and/or living in a cave. I'm _only_ like one out of a _trillion _females who also think _The__Terminator _trilogy is absolutely kick ass. But what am I saying? Martin doesn't _exactly_ get out all that much, what with the computer reigning supreme as his number one companion even to this day.)

I mean, yeah, Martin's my friend and all, and I really like and care for him a lot. Honest. But is he _serious_? I mean, come on, now.

Not that _I'm_ exactly "Miss Social Butterfly" or anything (not with _my_ increasingly cynical disposition that I'm beginning to notice, the more I write down my thoughts), but being told that my plight can be related to by one who is _practically_ the king of Geeks is not really a _Chicken Soup for the Soul _type of moment.

Honestly, here. That's like telling a vegetarian that you only eat meat because vegetables happen to give you extreme _gas_ or something. An excuse, but a _poor_ one, nonetheless (not to mention vile and weak in the ways of comfort or rationalization).

So like I said, here is now contact-donning-but-still-beady-eyed-resembling Martin sitting next to me with a comforting (not _really_) hand resting upon my shoulder, while obviously waiting for me to gush with appreciation and say something like, "Oh, Golly Gee _Willikers_, Martin! Thanks _ever_ so much for your understanding and personal identification to my most embarrassing ordeal, being that you _are_ such the seasoned veteran to such predicaments, yourself!"

_Ha_. Try again.

Not _today_ anyway, when I have the entire school's population _all_ jumping at the chance to_ deprecate_ me. These people are_ so_ lucky that I'm basically "off duty" with my saving the world duties for the time being, or else I would otherwise so totally go on strike, that's all I can say.

Anyway, so instead of taking the usual nice route that I do whenever dealing with Martin, I got a little snooty and said in reply, "Thanks, Martin -- really. But even though you're trying to help ease my social degradation here, you're basically the _last_ person I would want the 'help' or pity from -- no offense."

Of course, normally I would rather bite off my tongue before I would ever say something so insensitive, no matter _how_ mad or frustrated I got. And _especially_ not to those I care about. But like I'd said, I'm not exactly in a _Mary Poppins _kind of mood, if you catch my drift.

No "spoonful of sugar" will help to make the awful tasting medicine that is _reality_ go down.

Still, in spite of my foul mood, good ol' Martin didn't seem to mind, because he instead simply emitted his signature (and slightly annoying) nasally, snort-like laugh before getting up to take his seat behind me.

"No offense _taken_, Will! Because, believe it or not, I actually happened to pull a _you_ last night. Er, that's what everyone's apparently now calling it whenever someone does something extremely embarrassing within the public eye -- 'Pulling a Will,'" he revealed to me, much to my ongoing mortification, with such nonchalance. (Thanks a lot, you bum.) "But anyway, like I was saying, I'd managed to 'Watoosie' my way _straight_ into the refreshment table, where one of the _gajillion _punch bowls had been set! _Totally_ ruined my _Aladdin _costume, as _well _as any chances of winning best costume with Taranee."

Even though what had happened to Martin was nothing in comparison to what had happened to _me_, I was, surprisingly, still actually beginning to feel a little bit better about it all.

That is, until Martin had to apparently read my mind and open his trap again.

"Of course, what happened to me _pales_ in comparison to what had happened to _you_, Willinator -- er, so I hear. But, _man_! What a great party! And_ I _had actually been _invited_ for once!"

8:23 am.

The official time that my social life and _would_ be esteemed status (such as it was), has ceased to exist.

**-- End of Chapter Four  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Squee. Done. BAM! In your face. LoL Sorry, but I know you're all now like, "Wait, what? That's it? You're Sokai! You don't DO short entries!" I know. LoL But hey, this is Will "talking," not me. So think of it like she's sending you e-mails or something, versus them being actual chapters that I'm writing. It'll make life easier that way. LoL Besides, better get used to some entries of hers being super short, or otherwise super long – which I plan on doing after this next chapter coming up . . . in a few minutes. LoL)**


	5. Chapter Five

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Gasp. Two updates in one day? Am I feeling all right? Hard to tell, especially now that I'm sniffling a bit here. LoL Anyway, this is fun for me, actually, mainly because I get to go back to my "roots" and do comedy, rather than all of the drama/angst stuff I've been shelling out lately. LoL_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

This (short, again LoL) chapter was created in November 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**Wednesday, November 1st, Still Biology**

Pulling a Will.

_Pulling a Will_?

I _still_ can't get over that, as I sit here, trying _super _hard to focus on today's lesson on the Nervous System. (Perfect timing, right? Especially since I've been _blushing_ like _crazy_ all morning, thanks to everyone pointing and _laughing _everywhere I go.)

Because my life wasn't "perfect" enough, _now_ we've got what happened to _Martin_ being shrugged off, in spite of the fact that he's one of the biggest walking _disaster_ zones in Heatherfield, and all of the popular kids absolutely_ love _to revel within his embarrassing feats.

But I mean, how low is _that_? To actually have what happened to him (or anyone_ else_, for that matter, it seems like) be dubbed "_Pulling a Will_"?

_How_ much lower upon the social food chain can I possibly _get_?

Pulling a Will.

I can't believe that I've already reached "cult" status overnight over this.

At least I know that I would get along well with the guys from_ MTV's Jackass_. I mean, _they're_ always falling down stairs or other _far_ more embarrassing (and not to mention, _stupid_) acts like that.

Then again, they _are_ also out of high school already, and get _paid _to fall down stairs, whereas _I_ had done my little stunt pro bono.

Pulling a Will. There has_ got_ to be a bit of an underlining oxymoron or something in there _somewhere_, I swear.

Fine. Take pleasure out of my misery. I _only_ could have broken my neck in so many different places and oh, I don't know -- DIED as a result of my fall!

But no. It's okay. _Really_. Let's just name a near-death experience and/or anything _else _deemed _hilarious_ to the masses after me.

Pulling a Will. Just freaking _great_.

**-- End of Chapter Five  
**

* * *

**(A.N. 490 words. Eww. LoL Blame Will, though -- she wrote it. LoL Anyway, boy, who knew that she could be so dramatic whenever she wants to be? LoL But I should talk. I used to get like that back in high school, myself. LoL Kinda harsh too, having negative crap being named after her. Geez, her school sux worse than mine had. LoL)**


	6. Chapter Six

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _"O, swear not by the moon, the **fickle** moon, the **inconstant **moon, that monthly changes in her circle orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable."** - William Shakespeare**. Ain't that the truth. No "peace" if they're short; no "peace" if they're long. I can't help it if some of 'em will/won't be short updates. But yeah. I'd rather post something that extremely short but is excellent, than something that is extremely long and useless. So yeah, even though I was the one to joke about it, in the future please don't point out to me that something I've written is short (especially since I also have people come at me that my stuff is too long. Can't win, huh?) because chances are I'd made it short for a very good reason. Like I said, I know what I'm doing. Thank you. Good mood gone now (please don't ask me, or worse yet, pounce upon me in a negative capacity. Nothing to do with this, anyhow), so whatever._

_P.S. Made the goof and said that Will was starting Junior year. Wanted to make her one, but I'd already said she was seventeen and that can't be since she's born in January like meh, so yeh. So she's a senior instead, "sadly." Ah, well. I can still work with this. _

* * *

This chapter was created in November 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Still Wednesday, November 1st, Study Hall**

Here's a little riddle for you: What's worse than having friends who abandon you during your time of need?

Give up?

Answer: Having friends who _stick_ by you during your time of need.

Confused? Allow me to explain.

See, it's one thing to have everyone tease you over something that you can no more change than the fact that the sun always rises within the east and sets within the west.

I _get_ that. (And after being on campus for a while by _this_ point as I write this entry, I'm getting used to people coming up to me with lame, insensitive jokes like, "Enjoy your '_trip_' there, Will?" With only two more periods to go, I have forced myself to tune it all out as best that I can.)

However, it's _another_ thing to try to tune your_ friends_ out, who only wish to _help_. (And with a _Telepath_ as one of your friends, there is just no _way_.)

I appreciated their trying to come to my rescue in physical education class earlier. (Well, Hay Lin and Irma that is, as they are the only two out of the four remaining Guardians who have the same period P.E. as me. Can you guess who gets to have _her_ P.E. class period shared with Caleb? _Bingo_. Only lucky_ Taranee_ doesn't have P.E. at _all_ this year, as she had been smart enough to get it over with back in Freshman year, by adding on the physical education class she'd have to take for her Senior year into her Freshman schedule. But the _rest _of us were too lazy or something and just could not bear the thought of having to do things like Circuit Training_ twice_ in one day, every _other_ day of the week in one semester.)

It was when fellow senior (who got left back, I might add, so she is technically a _seasoned_ senior) and head . . . well, evil "_witch_" on campus, Mary Rosenberg, insisted upon ridiculing me more than she _normally_ does. (More than anyone else within the entire school, actually. Why? Oh, only because she eternally feels that I'd stolen Matt away from her. Yeah, right! _How _many times has he made it _painstakingly_ clear that he's never had feelings for her beyond friendship, a feeling that wans day by day as it is, and the chances were _very_ strong that he never _would_ like her more than that?_ Especially_ with the way that she always treats _me_ and other people she feels are "_beneath_" her.

But, no. Mary continues to hold him upon a _pedestal _and practically _throws_ herself at him whenever she sees him coming, apparently hoping that her "charms" will finally bewitch him the way it somehow manages to other guys she pursues.

Talk about a _head_ case.

And to think that I'd actually thought she was trying to be my "_friend_" during my Freshman year and found out that I liked Matt, but wasn't sure how _he_ felt. It's obvious to me _now_ that Mary had known all _along_ how he felt, and that _greatly_ perturbed her, which was why she tried to come off as sweet and helpful by advising to me that it'd be "best if you just try to move on and _forget_ about him," after I'd stupidly admitted to her that I didn't feel I stood an honest chance with him. Poor, silly and naïve me. But, hey. Water under the bridge, considering I'd won Matt's heart, after all, and _Mary _still can't even win his _attention_, let alone anything _else_.)

Only, _Mary's_ kind of discourtesy is _far_ worse than everyone else's, because it's of the "sugary sweet" variety.

You know, when someone who_ clearly _does not like you, instead of just _saying _so in addition to something insulting like, "You look really _ugly _in that outfit" in an undeniably harsh manner, will say it like, "Oh, my God! You look really _great_ in that outfit!" It's so that, in _that _way, you can't really accuse them of ever being _mean_ to you, because witnesses will say _otherwise_. Which, of course, infuriates you all the _more_ because you both know that they do not tolerate you any more than _you_ can tolerate _them_, but they continue to treat you "nicely" like that because you both _also_ know that that will get under your skin more than anything else.

Yeah. Well, Mary's on the right track with that, because that's _exactly_ what she succeeds in doing whenever we unfortunately have to interact.

And today wasn't any different.

I mean, I _obviously _had the feeling that as soon as Mary spotted me she'd want to have a _field_ day with me, but I was kind of hoping that she would take a "_vacation_ day" instead, since Matt is apparently absent today. (And you wonder why she got left back. Apparently she doesn't deem school _worthy _of attending if Matt is not there, either. And I thought that _I_ was bad with my hangup over _Caleb_. Sure, I love the guy, but you wouldn't catch _me _becoming truant just because _he'd_ become so, himself.)

I guess she found the opportunity to torture me _far_ too valuable to pass up, even at the expense of visiting Matt at his house or _whatever_ she does whenever they take their "leave" of this school, because when I walked into the locker room to get changed into my gym attire, there she was, waiting for me at my locker and playing with her frizz ball brown hair.

"Oh, _wow_, Wilhelmina! I am _so_ sorry for what happened to you last night!" Mary said to me with a sympathetic, concerned look plastered onto her freckled pale face once I'd reached the dark red locker and began to put in my combination to open it.

Like I said, by this point in the day, I had shifted my attitude about this entire debacle from "stunned and mortified" to "defensively mute" (if that makes sense), so I just gave her this uninterested look as a reply (_especially _since she called me by my full name, practically the only one who knows me to always do so. It's just another accompaniment to her ongoing joy in tormenting me).

And so, because I hadn't given a verbal response, Mary merely continued on in her false condolences while idly smoothing down the red t-shirt she always wore for class.

"Yeah, um, because you know, when I saw you falling down, I tried to get to you to help you out and make sure you were okay, but you'd rushed out before I had the chance! Oh, _God_, because I was so_worried _about you, I couldn't sleep a _wink_ last night after the party," she said as she peered up at me, after taking a seat upon the long wooden bench that separated the_ equally_ long row of lockers in front of us and the ones behind us.

I was thinking to myself: _Okay, obviously this girl isn't going to leave me alone until I acknowledge her_, so I finally _did_ as I entered in the last combination to my locker, and actually saw what looked like _tears_ welling up within her usually lifeless,_ evil_ little hazel eyes.

Again, I once more immediately think, _You have got to be kidding me. I'm so sure that she is completely heartbroken and distraught over my episode. _

But then, as an _afterthought_, I figured that maybe she really _is_, but only because she didn't have a _camera_ or something handy on her to _immortalize_ the moment.

But anyway, since I know that it is no use to actually argue with this girl, I just uttered a swift, "Y-_yeah _. . . thanks for caring, Mary," before turning my attention back to my now open locker . . . and felt worse than I did _already_ the moment that I had.

Why? Because somehow some_one_ (most likely _Mary_) had managed to get into my locker and put in a bright yellow helmet and kneepads on top of my pink colored gym clothes. And of _course_, the girls changing around me burst out into _shrieking_ laughter as I pulled the safety equipment out, while _Mary_, still trying to be a _saint_ or whatever, immediately came to my "rescue" by pretending to be shocked.

"Hey! This_ isn't_ funny, you guys!" she said as she got up from her spot and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, while scolding the surrounding girls who continued to get dressed and laugh at my expense. "This is _serious_! What if Wilhelmina had _died_ when she'd fallen down _all _of those stairs in front of _millions_ of people? We shouldn't take _joy_ in her ongoing _misery_!"

Thank you, and goodnight.

I am sure that that would have killed _Mary_ if I _had_ died. Probably would have busted out the _champagne _and sang the chorus from "_Ding Ding! The Witch is Dead!_" instead.

Anyway, like I said, I was so completely _beyond_ numb, to _everything_ really, that I didn't even care that "someone" had decided to put the helmet and pads into my locker, so I just idly tossed them aside onto the floor and tried to get dressed as quickly as possible, before I ended up having a relapse of emotion and snap Mary's neck or something.

But that was, of course, when both Hay Lin and Irma had come barreling into the locker room and, as I'd stated at the beginning of this entry, defended me and last night's event.

Which, in _my_ opinion, only made things _worse_, not only because of the sneers and jeers made by a few random girls (some I don't even _know_ and vice versa) saying that I can't even fight my own battles or whatever (which I don't really understand, because how does someone actually _caring_ that I was physically okay and _saying_ so constitute as them also "fighting my battles" for me? Whatever.), but because like I said, I didn't want to talk about my feelings or anything I knew that the girls _would_ want me to do later on.

Which is exactly what Hay Lin and Irma tried to pressure me into doing all throughout our volleyball game later on that period. And let me tell you. Trying to avoid "spilling the beans" to someone like _Irma_, who could probably get someone who'd taken a vow of _silence_ or something to_ break_ it, _isn't_ the easiest thing to do.

But somehow I'd made it through the rest of class _without _cracking, and told them that to trust me when I said that I was actually all right with it.

Of course, I'm _pretty_ sure that they don't believe me and will _undoubtedly_ try again later on, but oh well.

I know. I'm horrible to push my loved ones away like this. I swear that I did truly appreciate the concern for the last time. I did. But trying to pressure me into talking about anything "negative" means that I'll have to _reflect_ upon it, which makes the occurrence _that_ much more "alive" and _current_.

_Besides_, that's what I have this _diary_ for anyway, right? I can whine all that I want to in here without burdening anyone with my "woes and worries," and at the _same_ time get things off of my chest.

All in all, not a bad system.

And _anyway_, I wasn't _exactly_ lying when I'd said that last night no longer bothers me.

It doesn't.

Okay, so it still _does_ a little bit. But that's only _natural_, right?

The only thing that really bothers me anymore is the fact that, of everyone to ask if I really _am_ okay and try to comfort (which hasn't really been a lot, in contrast to those who have instead _berated_ me), _Caleb _hasn't said a word.

The one who matters the most.

It's not like he hasn't had an opportunity, or anything. We share AP English (which I find utterly _ironic_, given that he wasn't even born on Earth, and when he'd first visited it he'd certainly found quite an amount of different concepts and customs _greatly_ confusing. But, hey. He _is _also pretty intelligent and quick to learn new things, so I don't suppose it_ should_ be all that surprising, now that I think on it), lunch, and this study hall together.

So that's _three_ chances everyday in which he could try to reach out to me in an emotional capacity. _Heck_, at _this _point I would settle for a simple, "It's okay" from him or something.

But have I gotten that? Nope.

_Instead_, I got to watch him and Cornelia _make out_ during lunch a few seats down from mine, while they alternated between doing that and her feeding him some of her French fries.

And _then_,in English class, he acted as though I wasn't even _there_, even though his seat is right next to mine (due to his fake last name of "Virgilio," courtesy of Taranee and an old crush of hers back when she was six) and he had to share my copy of the _Tuesdays with Morrie_ book that we're reading as a class since he'd forgotten his.

I mean, after this behavior, I would figure that he just finds me so _unbelievably_ pitiful now that he cannot even bear to acknowledge my _existence _any longer (not like he really did _before_), had it not been his _incessant _staring at me right now whenever he believes I do not notice.

Yes. I am not even kidding. As soon as I settled into my usual seat in the corner of the cafeteria that my study hall is always held within, there Caleb is at _his_ place clear across the other side of the room, reading one of his textbooks (or, at least, he _had_ been until _I'd _entered the room, anyway).

And that was over _twenty minutes _ago, and Caleb's _still _sitting there with his book open in front of him but his green eyes instead prefer to bore a hole into my skull.

Under normal circumstances, I would be ecstatic to realize that Caleb was noticing me. _Believe_ me.

But I know why he's been looking at me all this time.

It's because, in his mind, he's currently trying to figure out: "How could _she_ be the leader of an elite group of 'superheroes' who are the saviors of this _and _my world, when she can't even walk down a flight of _stairs_ correctly, and then effectively cope with the gossip that comes her way as a result?"

He probably now agrees with Cornelia what she used to think that _she_ should have been chosen as Keeper of the Heart of Candracar when the Oracle had first appointed the five of us as Guardians.

And honestly, despite the progress I'd made over the years in being the "take-charge" kind of person the girls had needed, I suddenly feel like I'm_ regressing_ or something instead. As though, while everyone else around me is growing and/or evolving or whatever, _I'm_ retreating more and more back into my shell.

And a strong, capable guy like Caleb deserves an _equally_ strong and capable girl by his side . . . like Cornelia.

You know what? I think I just had a bit of an epiphany as I write this. One of those "you live, you learn" kind of lessons or whatever like in that one song that famous Canadian singer sings.

All of this time, I've been pinning the blame squarely upon _Cornelia's _shoulders that Caleb doesn't like me, let _alone_ notice that I exist. But in reality? It's my _own _fault. All I seem to be doing lately is fretting over how things aren't going my way within my life, and how I wish that it could change.

I mean, it's _my_ life. If I ever _want_ it to change, I have to take _action_ to change it.

And the _first_ thing I'm going to do is put Caleb "Virgilio" out of my head and out of my _heart _for _good_.

Oh, shoot. The bell's about to ring. I'll have to finish this thought-train of mine later.

But I mean it. I _swear_ to get over Caleb if it's the last thing I do.

**-- End of Chapter Six  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Obviously, that "famous Canadian singer" Will was referring to is Alanis Morissette, who kicks ass. But as a rule or w/e at this place, I'm restricted from mentioning non-fictional people within stories so yeah. Hence why I'd only said "Elvis" and not "Elvis Presley" in the other chapter. Anyway, I guess my real life bad mood sort of seeped out into this chapter, based upon how Will's a bit down, herself. And I won't even deny that this entire thing was based upon me and a stupid prank my OWN Mary played on me during gym class one time back in h.s. While I still have zero respect for that girl, I still won't use her real last name, even though the fake one I'd come up with is pretty close . . . cough. But Will's Mary is exactly how MY Mary treated me, resented me all throughout high school for the same reasons, too, and gave the same "advice" that this Mary gave to Will. Evil git. Anyway, hope you liked. Don't hate on Caleb's last name, cuz that's my pal's last name and I've always thought it kicked butt.)**


	7. Chapter Seven

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _See? You wanted some snogging, and I gave you that blurb of how Caleb and Corny went at it like rabbits (yay to you C/C fans; gross to me and other non-C/C fans). Anyway, that's all I have to say, cuz someone will probably tell me this next entry of Will's is short. Sigh . . .  
_

* * *

This chapter was created in November 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Still Wednesday, November 1st, Math**

You know that it _totally_ sucks that I have math class as the _last_ period of the day. All I want to do is get _out_ of here and head over to swim practice, since that's about one of the only times that I feel completely "in sync" with everything going on (or lack thereof) within my life.

But I just got a pretty weird text message from my mother a few minutes ago. I mean, it's weird on its own that my mother would be texting me _during_ school hours, when she never has before, as she says that I have _enough_ distractions roaming around within the school walls and so I don't need messages of "I love you!"'s or "Be sure to pick up milk on your way home"'s being sent from her.

But, besides the fact that she's text messaging me right now (and that she _was_ avoiding me like the plague up until now), the message _itself_ is the most bizarre.

Here's what it said:

_Skip your swim practice and come straight home after school, Will. Extremely important. -- Mom_.

Now I don't know _what_ to think. I mean, my mind is _racing_, because my Mom is probably one of the hardest to figure out within my life right now. I seriously have _no_ clue how to map her out anymore. _Especially_ because she just told me to actually _skip_ my swim practice.

For long as I can remember, Mom has _never_ told me to flake out on _any_ of my responsibilities, and now she's telling me to do so?

What is _with_ her? I really hope that she isn't having a nervous breakdown, or midlife crisis or something (a bit premature for the latter, considering that she's only thirty-nine), because that's just something I am in _no_ way prepared to even_ begin_ to handle right now, _despite_ my newfound resolution to reform.

Still. What's going to happen if my mom _does_? I mean, thinking _beyond_ the social ramifications of it all, what will happen to our small family? Will I have to go live with Dad? I'd like to see how _that_ one will work out, considering that Dad's not exactly Mom's favorite person and all.

Besides that, Dad's currently busy globe-trotting with his _new_ wife, Sarina Sanchez-Vandom. I don't think that they'll have much time to deal with me. Or, what if I end up in _foster care_ or something instead? What if someone like _Principal Knickerbocker_ adopts me, and I'll have to end up going to bed at four-thirty in the _afternoon _and have to sleep in _booty pajamas_ or something?

Ugh. It's only been forty-five minutes since I'd first made my promise to be more solidified as a budding young adult, and I'm _already_ cracking with all of my complaining all over again.

Besides, _how _backwards am I to be worrying about_ myself _if Mom really_ is_ losing her marbles or something as we speak? I'm almost _eighteen_! If I really_ do _end up with Dad and Sarina, I'll be going off to _college_ soon anyway, and won't be with them except in the summertime and during the holidays.

And if I get adopted, well . . . actually, I_ couldn't_ get adopted at this point _because_ I'll be eighteen soon. So, okay. Scratch that one dilemma out then.

Oh, shoot. I just got another text message, this time from Matt (whom I _definitely_ have to go see later today, because I could use the comfort and support right about now).

_This_ one's even more weird than Mom's had been:

_Hey, Kermie_ (Matt's nickname for me, since I love frogs so much)_. Know ur in class right now -- & I'm not. Ha Ha. Make sure u pay attention so u can give me ur notes 2 copy l8r, ok? Had 2 stay home 2 look after g-pa, I 4-got 2 mention when I called u durin ur lunch period, cuz he wasn't feelin so well. _

_NE way, I'm on my way 2 the market downtown 2 pick up sum more cough syrup 4 him, & guess who I am seeing hangin around outside of that ritzy Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel, in a trench coat & Bug-Eye sunglasses? Ur mother! IDK know if she's meetin sum 1 though, cuz the light just turned green & I have 2 move on. Either ur mother is secretly related 2 Carmen Sandiego or sumthin, or she's having sum secret affair she doesn't want u 2 know about. NE way, I'll call u l8r after ur swim practice, 'kay? Luv u, babe! _

_-- Matt_

Great. Now my resolve to be more sound has _completely_ flown out of the window after reading that.

_First_, Mom doesn't speak to me. _Then_ she has me do a marathon of chores out of the blue. _Then_ she tells me to ditch swim practice (which I'm _still _debating whether or not I should, because I _do_ have a really big meet coming up next Monday and I need all of the practice time I can manage to squeeze in before then).

And _now_, Matt sees her dressed very suspicious-like while standing outside of _Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel_, one of the _snazziest _hotels in town and that only the super "well-off" like celebrities or whatever can afford to stay in (and that even Cornelia_ cannot _afford to do so)?

Now I _know_ that Mom has lost her freaking mind, especially since she's always made it a point to steer_ clear_ of that place (and any _other_ lavish place, come to think of it).

But I can't do anything about it right now, not with thirty-two minutes out of a forty-four minute class left within the period, and the teacher giving me _death_ glares to pay attention.

Well, whatever. No matter what, I'm going to find out after class, right?

_Whatever_ it is, though, I know for _fact_ that it will not and _cannot _be as bad as how today has shaped out.

**-- End of Chapter Seven  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Yeah. I know what you're saying: "Finally, we're getting somewhere with this plot." Yes. I didn't want to rush into it and I normally don't with my stories, so yeah. Wanted to have something "frivolous" happen to Will before diving into the more important crap. Anyway, sorry if some of you couldn't understand Matt's text lingo – since I'm deathly lazy, I write like that all the time in my texts. And boy does Susan really look like she's related to Carmen Sandiego now that I think about it . . . who also used to honestly scare me when I was a kid, cuz she was always stealing sh.t and then hiding all over the world, and it bothered me when those contestants and junk couldn't catch her on the show, cuz I was like, "Oh, great. NOW she's probably gonna come hide somewhere over HERE." Geez. LoL Oh, and I know that Sarina's only in the cartoon, not the comics. But I didn't feel like diving into the "real story" behind dirty Tommy, so I just left it at that. So there. Anyway, stay tuned.)**


	8. Chapter Eight

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Yep. Another update. Three in one day. She shall receive a billion hits for each, but two reviews, max. If I'm wrong in that assumption, I shall give you all a cookie . . . even though I just bought them and wanted to eat 'em for myself to cheer myself up. Ah well._

_Enjoy.  
_

* * *

This chapter was created in November 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**Still Wednesday, November 1st, After School,**

**En Route to the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel**

Okay.

First Mom tells me to meet her at home after ditching practice (which she'd better have a good excuse for me to feed to Gracie, my swim coach, for why I wasn't there), and _now_ she just called me and told me not to get on the bus that drops me off a block away from my loft (which I unfortunately still have to take, since I can't drive. Well, no, I _can_ drive, but I don't have a car in which _to _drive. At least _Taranee_ doesn't have a car, either, which I think she's just fine with, as she's terrifiedof driving. And with crazy, on-a-rampage people like Irma and Cornelia loose on the road? I can't say that I blame her.), but instead take the number forty-one that will go into downtown Heatherfield, where the hotel is. (Downtown reminds me a lot of Times Square or something, even though I've never been to New York before. Downtown Heatherfield is just_ that_ different in contrast to the_ rest_ of Heatherfield. Which I guess is a _good_ thing for the rich or glamorous people who pass through here either on business or publicity stunts or whatever, because I highly doubt that they'd want to spend time in the _rest_ of this slightly ho hum town.)

I guess Matt _was_ right, then, when he said that he thought he saw my mom there. I just still find it so bizarre and hard to believe. For the life of me I can't think of any reason why she'd be there.

But it's obviously _not _for a secret fling or whatever, because then why would Mom tell me to meet her?

_Gross_, much.

But, no. I'm drawing an absolute _blank_, here. Maybe my mom's asking me to meet her because she wants to tell me that she and my old History teacher, Dean Collins, are getting married.

Nah, _that_ can't be it, either. I mean _first _off, they broke up _months_ ago, which _totally _surprised me, because they seemed so in love. Sure, at first that fact always used to make me want to _gag_ whenever I'd think of how it was _strongly_ possible that Dean had seen Mom _naked_ -- or worse, _she_ had seen _him_ naked.

Oh, my God. I almost just honestly went _blind _there for a second, at the mere thought.

Gross multiplied by a _billion_.

Still, after their having been together for a few years now, I'd honestly gotten used to it and even developed . . . I_ guess_ you could call it a "_soft spot_" for the guy. Because I could tell how abundantly happy he had made my mom.

So imagine _my_ utter surprise when Dean had broken up with Mom right out of the blue this past summer. So now, of course, I absolutely _hate _the guy and have officially put him onto my "hit list." I mean, how could he do that to her, after _always_ gushing and_ fawning _over her (the way that Caleb does for Cornelia . . . _Geez_, Will! _Stop _that, already!) and telling me in confidence that he's found "the one" within her?

_Boy_, is _he _ever lucky that he'd transferred out of Sheffield and moved to Syracuse to teach, or else I'd _blow up _that place with him_ inside._ (Okay. Maybe not that, because I'd kill innocent people in the process, but you get me. _Yikes_, am I violent. I think that I might need _Anger Management _or something.)

But, geez. What a coward Dean is, to leave town like that. Couldn't stand to face the woman whose heart he'd broken into a million pieces on a daily basis . . .

Oh, my God! _That's_ why Mom's been acting so strange! Because of the whole breakup! _God_, how dense and self absorbed am _I_? The _shock_ of it all has probably only _just_ begun to take effect, since while Mom _did_ seem pretty sad by everything, she still seemed relatively glued.

And _actually_, that was _also_ when she'd started to really change _behavior_-wise around me.

Hmm . . .

Well, maybe my mom just didn't want me to worry, and so just has been avoiding me whenever she maybe felt like she was about to have a meltdown or something. Yeah, and maybe now she wants me to meet her downtown because she's in no shape to drive or operate any_ other _kind of heavy machinery, she's_ that_ upset.

To quote from one of my favorite movies, _My Best Friend's Wedding_: "I'm pond scum. Well, _lower_ actually. I'm like the _fungus_ that _feeds_ on pond scum . . . _Lower_. The _pus _that_ infects_ the mucus, that _cruds up_ the fungus, that _feeds_ on the pond scum."

_So_ true.

Because, here I am, _so _focused upon myself, when my mother is having a _super _huge crisis of her _own_. I mean, _sure_, what happened to me sucked, but like Matt always tells me to remember whenever I'm stressing over something (which is all the _time_, it seems like. It's a wonder that Matt and I had managed to stay together for as long as we had), "This _too_, shall pass."

Which is so _unbelievably_ true, because if I had a dime for all of the times that I thought things _wouldn't_ get better, and then they always eventually had, I'd be a _billionaire_.

Besides, after high school, I'll _never_ see these people again (_especially_ not _Mary_, thank _God_), so who _cares_ what they think of me, or that they witnessed me embarrass myself. (Now, let's just see how long this mentality lasts, though -- especially come tomorrow, when I have to endure the horrible jeering process all _over_ again.)

Right now, a member of my family -- my _mother_ -- needs me, and that's all that truly matters to me . . .

**LIST OF THINGS I NEED TO DO**:

1. Incorporate the bravery that I'd accumulated throughout my Guardian missions into my every day life.

2. Stop being such a drama queen.

3. Stop obsessing over the petty things I might not have and wish that I did.

4. Stop obsessing over Caleb and just be all the way happy for him and Cornelia and nothing else, and then be prepared to attend their wedding one day.

5. Buy Mom a really nice, "pick-me-up" kind of gift to show her that I care and am here for her.

**-- End of Chapter Eight  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Nice little "tribute" there to my "Requiem for a Dream" story, for those who've read it and didn't catch it. Y'know, mentioning Gracie, Will's coach, who was the name of her coach in my Req. story and also the chapter when Will and Sitara meet for the first time, etc. Yeah . . . cough. Anyway, I'm gonna not update so many chapters in one day anymore. No effect on people. Yep. Anyway, nine should be up . . . I don't know when. But after this chapter, the main plot will be revealed. So yes, chapter nine's "important." Oh, yeah, and I don't own the movie, "My Best Friend's Wedding" or the quote from it, but it is my favorite movie that I sadly can relate to all too well. LoL)**


	9. Chapter Nine

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Dom it all to heck! Yes, I said "dom" instead of "damn," and "heck" instead of "hell." I don't generally curse a lot, so yeah. But I'm still pissed off right now. Why? Cuz my computer decided to be an evil, greedy bastard and eat all of chapter nine (which was long. Not long to ME, reading/writing wise, or THE longest I've ever written period, rather, but it WAS "really" long cuz I DIDN'T want to divide this "revealing" chapter) that I'd saved onto the computer AND disk, thank you. The ONE time/chapter that I DIDN'T send to my e-mail for extra extra backup or write out manually as I usually do my other chapters of other stories . . . So NOW I gotta rewrite it all and remember and post it as chapter ten, I'm sorry. Ironically, the only thing it DIDN'T seem to want to eat was the very beginning. Guess it wasn't good enough to satisfy its appetite or whatever. Anyway, while I rewrite this bastard, here is what it DIDN'T want to eat (which I suppose works out, since I did promise a few of you I know personally that I would update this story pretty soon and at least drop the "bomb" of this story's main plot). Just, PLEASE, I am begging you, do NOT point out to me in review that this was a "short chapter," because, duh-UH. So I notice/can see. Thank you, muchly! ;)  
_

* * *

This chapter was created in November 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

**Later on Wednesday**

I can't even write, I'm shaking so badly and am in shock. I don't even know where I _am_ right now, either, actually, since downtown is a bit foreign to me. But I do at least know that it's some random alley or whatever.

But who cares? I have _bigger _things to worry about at the moment than my current whereabouts!

Oh, my God.

OH, MY GOD! Now, I'm _hyperventilating_, and I'd _just_ recovered from a fainting spell not too long ago.

_Yes_, a fainting spell.

Can't keep up? Let me try to slow down (if I even _can_, that is. I am _seriously_ like two seconds away from having a _heart attack_).

No, I didn't just get mugged or lost on my to the plaza (although it would have prevented me from going there at all, thus_ also_ prevent my current upset), nor have I just experienced any sort of magical phenomena as I usually am prone to do, and so _that's_ why I'm feeling so woozy. As annoying as those episodes can be, I'd _gladly_ welcome one right about now, because then it would keep me _distracted_.

But, nope. Of _course_ not. (_Figures_, right? When you actually want it to occur.)

No. The reason that I'm now so _unbelievably_ mortified and unraveled right now is _apparently_ the same reason that my so-called mother has been avoiding me lately.

BECAUSE SHE'S A FREAKING PRINCESS!!

No, I am not even kidding, and _trust_ me, I wish that I _was_.

I mean, of all of the things that I had previously thought that Mom would want to talk to me about or keep from me or _whatever _when I went to meet her at the hotel, I _never, _even within my _wildest_ of dreams, would ever for _once_ think that _this _would have been one of them! (Which, by the way, had been an event in_ itself_, entering the hotel. It should have immediately tipped me off that something was up, due to the way that the hotel staff had _instantly_ rushed to my side to assist me.

Still, I _guess_ it is _kind _of normal for employees _of_ hotels to do -- you know, cater to guests needs and stuff. At least, it _would_ have been normal, rather, had they not already known my name. Because I mean, I have never been to the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel the entire time I've been living here in Heatherfield.

And even_ if _my mother had informed one or two of the employees that I was coming to see her and obviously had told them my name, only those one or two employees would have bothered to acknowledge me. _Not_ the platoon of personnel that had instead!)

A _princess_! Of a whole entire, actual and real-life _country_! This has _got_ to be a dream, I know it! I'm just going to sit here and count to three and I will be at home in my warm and comfy bed, just having woken up from this _horrid_ nightmare.

One . . .

Two . . .

Three . . .

Oh, God. This _cannot_ be happening!

Oh, geez, am I ever shaking horribly right now. I can't write or_ think_ straight anymore. I'm going to have to write later.

_Plus_, I think that I am going to be _sick_ . . .

**-- End of Chapter Nine  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Had to unfortunately change the end a bit to have it "flow" than my original stuff that was part of the rest of the huge blurb I'd written, you bastard computer. But oh well. At least now the secret is out, right? Now we know the main plot or at least its beginning, and now you will undoubtedly say I'm mirroring the junk M.C. did in her book. Close, but no cigar. Let's just wait and see, pllllllllllllllllease. LoL)**


	10. Chapter Ten

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Sweet. 51 reviews. Up for not even a week. Rock it. :Dances: LoL Anyway, nothing more need be said. Read the thingie. LoL  
_

* * *

This chapter was created in November 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

**Wednesday Evening, **

**Galleria Cineplex**

What a major _dork_ I am, hiding out inside of an old and rundown movie theatre, with nothing but the little key chain flashlight (that I'm using to write this entry, being that it's so dark in here) to protect me in case, God forbid, some crazy homeless guy comes in here looking for shelter in addition to a "good time."

Regardless, there is just _no_ way that I can go back home right now. I can't. I know that it's wrong and not really fair to my mom, I guess, since she's been calling my cellphone over and over. But still. I can't deal with trying to cram in even _more _information than what was _already_ jammed into my brain.

And I _definitely _can't go to any of the girls' houses. They've _also _been calling me alongside Mom, since she apparently called each of them to see if I had maybe gone to see one of them.

Ha! Right. And say what? That not _only_ am I a mystical being, also known as a Guardian of the Veil, but I am now evidently a descendant of _royalty_?

Oh, wow. I can't believe this. All this time I've just been so focused upon the fact that my _mother_ is a princess, that I _actually _forgot for a second that, because _she_ is one, then so am _I_.

Okay. Okay, Will. Just _breathe_. You can _do_ this.

I just . . . I just can't _believe_ this is all happening, though. Crap like this only happens within the movies or books or something, like that one about a regular girl my age who _also_ ironically found out that she was a princess.

When I went inside of the plaza, as I'd said, every employee within the lobby were all too eager to help me get to my mother. And _again_, as I'd said, I found their behavior extremely puzzling but did not truly think much of it.

So anyway, even though I had _no_ clue as to _precisely_ where my mom had wanted to meet me, I just automatically assumed that it would be somewhere within the lobby, like in the fancy, beautiful dining court I saw on my way inside. I mean, I didn't think that she would have gotten a _room_ or anything like that, if all that she wanted was for me to pick her up, or whatever, like I'd originally thought, you know?

_Boy_, was _I_ wrong.

Not only _did_ Mom get a room, but it was one of the _biggest_ rooms within the entire hotel, the Presidential Suite.

Yeah, okay. Obviously, by now I am over the shock of _that_, at least. But, at the time, when I was being led into the elevator instead of the dining court, and didn't _emerge_ from said elevator until I was at the very top of the plaza, I kept thinking to myself: _Oh, my God. What if these people aren't staff of the hotel? What if they're going to lead me to my death or something? And here I was, worried that I'd be without Mom! Now she's going to be without me!_

So, while my paranoia was flaring up, I'd managed to say to the two uniformed females on either side of me and escorting me to the suite, "U-uh . . . I d-don't have much on me, b-because I don't get paid until next week, but I can give you the twenty-five dollars that I _do_ have i-if you'll just let me go."

I know. _Completely_ lame. But, hey! The next time that _you_ might believe that you're about to be kidnapped and _hacked_ up into fish bait, we'll see how calm _you _are.

_Thankfully_, though, the ladies seemed to find my indirect accusation of foul play amusing, because they only giggled and blushed profusely before the lady on my left, a tall blonde who sort of looked a bit like Cornelia said, "Oh, don't be _silly_! Yvette and I would _never _dream of taking money from someone like _you_!"

Now, this remark had honestly made me a bit mad as well as offended. Because I mean, I know that I'm just a "lowly teenager," whose financial value isn't _exactly_ all that much as it now stands, but_ still_. That was no reason for blatant disrespect.

So, right when I was about to open my mouth to say so to Blonde-Lady, her raven haired companion on my right, apparently known as Yvette, chimed in and was all, "Of _course_ not! Natasha's right! We are just so _honored _that we have this opportunity to 'socialize' and bask within your _greatness_!"

_Obviously_ yes, it was at _this_ point in time that I'd begun to grow a tad suspicious, at the the same time that my curiosity had certainly _peaked_. It's not _everyday _that I'm essentially treated like a celebrity, and so, I _will_ admit that, while everything _was_ incomprehensible, I _did_ still find it to be a bit cool.

I _even _began to think that, maybe my mom really _was_ having a secret love affair, but with a famous person , and could no longer keep it hidden from her daughter any longer, and so _that's_ why she sent for me.

It certainly would have explained why I had to meet her at the _plaza _of all places; why everyone already seemed to know me and had been mesmerized by my mere _presence_; (Now, if only _Caleb_ could adopt that sort of behavior whenever he'd see me coming, then I would be _set_.) and now why Yvette and Natasha were "basking within my greatness," as they'd put it.

I was going to ask them if that was what was going on, but we had finally reached the very top floor, the fifty-first, at that moment. It's a good thing that I'm not really afraid of heights, or else I probably would have been _freaking_ when I'd gotten out of the elevator and curiously gazed out of the broad, elegant window that had greeted me to my right and featured the busy population below that honestly appeared ant-size.

The top floor truly _is _reserved for only the "special people" or what have you, because there were only like, a small handful of rooms that I'd taken notice of as I followed Natasha and Yvette down the vast hall (which really _wasn't_ a hall, in _my_ opinion, the way it was so _glamorous_. If any of the guests on that floor ever had a dispute with whomever they might be traveling with, there was certainly enough room as well as _comfort_ for him or her to stay out there, instead).

Finally, after walking for what felt like ages, I found myself accidentally bumping into Yvette's back, who had suddenly stopped with Natasha. That was because they had both led me to this grand, beige colored set of double doors, that were without the biggest of all of the other doors I had passed throughout my "journey."

I guess it makes sense that those doors would be super sized, considering that it had this golden plague with the words "_Presidential Suite_" written in script decorating the wall next to them.

When I saw this and where the three of us were I was all, "Oh! S-sorry about that. I take it that we're finally here and I can go see my mother and her boyfriend now?" You know, because I still had the notion of my mother dating some illustrious individual. (Although, when I think on it, now that I know that she's a princess, she probably could date some high profile guy if she wanted to -- and probably _has_ in the past, who knows.)

However, both women only found my remark to be humorous (just like everything _else _I've said to them) and each moved to seize one of the two identical brass doorhandles.

"Please remember us once you make it _big_!" Natasha said to me with a huge grin after twisting the doorknob.

"Yeah! Your secret is safe with _us_, and everyone _else_ here at the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel!" Yvette chimed in after curtsying and simultaneously pulling open the door with Natasha.

I must be _monumentally_ thick, here. _Honestly_. Because even an_ infant _probably would have been able to tell that what was going on was of the massively heralded variety, if those two _nut cases_ were going on and _on _about remembering him or her and secrets being kept.

But, oh no. Not _me_. Not _self-absorbed_ Will who, in one hour _flat_ managed to _shatter_ her vow to be _less self_-involved and is now diving head first back into her obsession of how anything that _could_ go wrong can and _does_.

_Anyway_, for _that_ moment at least, I'd forgotten all about me and my worries and hesitantly entered the suite. _One _thing I must say, though, is that had I gone there under better circumstances, I would have absolutely fallen in love with it.

I can remember once reading, in one of the random magazines set out within the waiting room of my dentist's office, that this place, the Presidential, has over seven bedrooms, six bathrooms, three living rooms and two kitchens. And as though _that _isn't enough, the suite _also_ has three marble fireplaces, one sauna _and_ a terrace that has an Inground swimming pool.

I can _also_ recall feeling _super _astounded _and_ envious of anyone who would ever get to stay in such a place.

And _now_ look. It turns out that my _mother,_ of all people, and the presumed celebrity lover I thought she was seeing had been staying there all along.

Mom (who apparently felt "safe" enough to discard her trench coat and glasses, since she was no longer wearing either of them) was standing near what I assumed was the first of the three fireplaces scattered inside of the suite, with her back facing me as well as a dark haired man seated upon a red vanity couch that was placed before the hearth.

I guess the suite was _too_ big, because it did not really seem to register to either of them just yet that I had entered the room. _Especially_ since they were right in the middle of a _pretty_ heated debate that I am quite positive they would not want me to be privy to, had they had_ known_ that I was present.

"I can't _believe_ you, Elisud. Did it ever occur to you to maintain a _low profile _while staying here? You _didn't_ have to inform absolutely_ everyone_ about it. What if some _madman_ ends up targeting Will in order to get to _you_?" my mom asked while peering into the roaring fireplace.

Her voice was riddled with a mixture of annoyance and apprehension, which made me instantly begin to worry for her all over again. _Plus_, I also felt a little less foolish in thinking that I was going to be kidnapped earlier, now that I had just overheard my mother thinking the very same thing.

"Oh, _come_ now, Almira. I can _hardly_ regard a mere handful of the plaza's personnel as 'everyone.' And forgive _me_ for not being quite accomplished in the ways of -- what was it that you said? Ah, yes: 'maintaining a _low profile_.' I suppose after twenty-one years of . . . 'living abroad,' one is _bound_ to pick up a few . . . 'tricks of the _trade_,'" the man seated upon the couch said to Mom's back with a slight condescending and self righteous tone, as well as an unrecognizable accent.

Even though this guy seemed to be giving my mother a hard time, I still found myself nonetheless intrigued by him. Like I was either connected to him or knew him somehow, I don't know (although, once again, I now know _why_).

As I continued to listen to their conversation in secret, I thought to myself, _For lovers, they sure argue a lot. And what a bizarre pet name to give to Mom . . ."Almira . . ."_

At the time, I'd thought that Mom apparently agreed, because she suddenly whirled around and glared daggers at the guy known as Elisud.

"My name is _not_ 'Almira,' Elisud! It's _Susan_! If you've come here for the _sole_ purpose of _belittling_ me for the choice that I had made all those years ago, then --"

"-- _Calm _yourself, '_Susan_.' My _word_, I cannot _believe _that you would honestly favor being referred to by such a name. _Almira_ is such a _strong_, _proud_ name," Elisud rudely commented, dismissively waving a bejeweled, tawny hand towards my mother, who looked positively_ livid_ by that point.

I couldn't blame her. I mean, this stranger was coming off as pretty _jerky_ and judgmental the longer I listened to him. _Personally_, I have always liked my mother's name. It was short, easy to pronounce, attractive, and wasn't something overly fancy like "_Wilhelmina _. . ."

But it was _obvious _that this Elisud character completely disagreed.

"And _anyhow_, while it_ is_ true that you and I have a bit of . . . lingering stagnancy between the two of us, Almira, you know very well why I have come. In _fact_, you were not at_ all_ thrilled to come meet with me when I had first contacted you this past summer after finally finding you. But you have always known that eventually this day would come," Elisud finished with a surprising sigh, which was shared with my mother, who had also exhaled sadly in reflection.

Even though I had wanted to eavesdrop a little bit more, I could no longer stand. My paranoia had reached _critical_.

So, taking a deep breath, I hesitantly cleared my throat and moved towards my mother and her . . . "friend."

"U-uh . . . Mom? You wanted to see me?" I asked, startling both my mother _and_ the mysterious, aristocratic-like man in the process. "What's going on? Why did you want me to meet you _here _of all places? How can we _afford_ it? And who is _this_ guy and why does he keep calling you '_Almira_' for?"

My mom immediately rushed to my side the moment that she saw me, and embraced me tightly for the first time in such a long while. Meanwhile, Elisud slowly rose to his feet and turned to face the two of us.

Now that I could get a better look at him, I instantly thought to myself, Yi_kes, does this guy look like Mom's twin!_ Which, of course was super gross to think, since I originally thought he was Mom's_ boyfriend_.

_Still_, Elisud really _did_ resemble a possible long lost twin or something, what with sharing the same dark, mesmerizing eyes; same wavy, jet black hair (with his short and slicked back, versus Mom's longtime preference to a shoulder length style); and naturally tan complexion (or, what I _assume_ was Elisud's natural tan, anyway).

Even _height_ was something the two seemed to share, except that Mom was around five foot, eight inches tall, and her male counterpart was definitely far more taller than that, such as six foot, three inches or whatever.

After Mom finally let me go I was able to get an even better look at Elisud and the fancy threads he had on. He was wearing a dark colored, Armani-resembling type of suit that probably cost him a billion bucks or something. The more I looked at him, _especially_ after taking in his current attire, the more he totally looked like that one Irish actor who played that fictional British spy in that one movie. And for a second I was even wondering how could Mom, or anyone _else_ for that matter, ever _dream_ of fighting with someone as charming as this guy (_übergross _again, to think like that, but at the _time_ it was "okay" because I didn't know).

Like a _total_ idiot, I just _stood_ there, _staring_ at this stranger _staring _at _me_ with a growing, warm smile spreading across his face, while _Mom_ began to uncomfortably shift her weight next to me.

Remember when I said that I had strangely felt drawn or connected to Elisud, even though I didn't know why? Yeah. Well, I was about to find out.

Before I knew what was happening, I could hear Mom shakily say as she rested both of her curiously quaking hands upon my shoulders, ". . . Elisud . . . I would like you to meet my daughter, Wilhelmina . . . Will, honey . . . this . . . is my little brother, Elisud . . ."

You know, _normally_, after learning about something so life-altering, such as having a long lost relative, the _natural _reaction one assumes is stupefaction. Or, at the _very_ least, _intrigue_.

Apparently, however, those emotions do not seem to cut it for me or what have you, because it didn't even initially _phase _me. All I said was, "Oh. Hi. So then, he's _not_ your new boyfriend or whatever then, Mom?"

How _morbid_ am I, _still _hung up on the whole "this is Mom's _boyfriend_" scenario, when I just found out that they're blood related? But my brain was honestly trying to figure out what was going on still, and firmly grasp the concept that I was standing in a lavish room that was _definitely_ bigger than my _entire loft_.

Anyway, so Mom goes, "Um . . . no, Will. Elisud is most certainly _not_ my boyfriend. What made you think that he was, anyhow?"

"Huh? Oh, because Matt had supposedly seen you outside of the hotel when he was driving by on his way to the market earlier today, and saw you dressed all incognito-like. So then he text messaged me while I was in math class to tell me so. He said that maybe you were there to meet with a 'secret lover' or something," I told her automatically, while still gazing without expression at Elisud, who began to chuckle upon hearing this.

"Good _Heavens_, Almira! She reminds me _so_ much of _you_ when you and I were children -- so outspoken and observant. And she certainly _looks_ like you, as well. Well, with the exception of her cardinal, a bit _unruly_ hair, of course. Her father must have _quite_ the fortified genes to 'outdo,' if you will, that of the DeMontaimont bloodline. How unique then, that your daughter will be the first relatively fair-haired ruler then, do you not agree?" Elisud said with another amused laugh, advancing from his spot and gently placed a tender kiss upon each of my cheeks.

_Mom_, however, was none too thrilled to hear mention of my dad, and began to make a big deal out of it while_ I_ tried to effectively follow and understand what was rapidly unfolding before me.

"Elisud, _please_! I agreed to meet with you, as I have no choice in the matter as you had so kindly pointed out to me. But I will ask that you refrain from referring to Thomas any further from this point on," she said, protectively pulling me towards her chest as Elisud backed up a bit. "He has _nothing _to do with this, anyhow."

"Too _right_. Of course, my condolences on your failed espousal, Almira. Perhaps, had you stayed at _home_ and married one of your many suitors -- instead of _gallivanting_ around the world like some _commoner_ -- then maybe --"

"-- _Wow_! Okay, then! I'm sorry here, but I'm getting _pretty_ tired of being confused and in the dark about everything here! Not to _mention _alsotired of having you _rag_ on my mother like this. You're her supposed _brother_, dude -- have a little more respect, will you?" I found myself blurting out before I could stop myself. My cheeks _instantly_ flushed with blood due to embarrassment after that.

I still meant every word, though. Because it seriously _was_ becoming _beyond_ ridiculous at how much this lost uncle of mine continued to ridicule my mother, in the same way that he'd been doing ever since I'd stepped into the suite and perhaps well before that.

It was rude and disrespectful.

_Nonetheless,_ I can't help but to always become _supremely _discomposed whenever I happen to call attention to myself (even _if_ it's for a good reason or cause, like defending the "little man." Or, in _this_ case, the little _woman_ . . . or _mother_ . . . _something)_.

Mom squeezed me lightly in appreciation from behind, while Elisud lightly gasped in surprise before lightly frowning and curiously smiling at the same time.

"_Well_! I admire your forthrightness . . . and obviously immense loyalty to those who reside within your heart. You have certainly raised your daughter well, Almira . . . Of course, her manners _could_ use improvement -- such as not _rudely_ interrupting others, especially those deemed her _superiors_. But that is something we can and _will_ fix, once everything is underway," he said cryptically as his dark blue eyes shone happily while focusing upon me once more.

Whatever Elisud had been referring to, Mom certainly was aware of, because she moved from behind me and placed herself in between her alleged brother and myself.

"Now, _listen_, Elisud -- _truly_ listen this time. I may have abdicated my right to the throne, but that in no way means that I have also relented my right to my_ only daughter_. So don't you go and make any 'royal-related' plans for her just _yet_," she delivered boldly to Elisud, whom I guess nodded from what I could see since Mom was in my way.

"_Very well_. Regardless, _since_ young Wilhelmina is _not_ yet eighteen as you had informed me, she is still _Marsily's_ child as _well_, and so I very well _can_ go right on ahead and make plans for her if I see fit. I _am_, after all, _King_, thanks to _you_," I heard him say with a nonchalant air in the beginning, but then suddenly trailed off with a faint but still detectable resentfulness.

_This_ was the final straw for me. Now that my mind was finally working back to full capacity, I couldn't take another minute of their impromptu riddles.

Too bad, because I think I would have preferred to _remain _in the dark about something _this_ astronomic.

I moved from my spot and did the first thing that had popped into my head. So, like a _lunatic_, I stood on top of one of the room's nearby, elegant-looking chairs and waved my hands into the air to get my mother and uncle's attention.

"Will someone _please_ just tell me what's the _deal_? _Right now_, or I'm walking!" I shouted, still swinging my arms around like a mental patient.

You know how, in those old cartoons where one of the characters' eyes will bulge out of their sockets in alarm? Yeah, well that's exactly what happened to _Elisud_. Because as soon as he saw me standing on that particular piece of furniture, his eyes practically_ jutted_ out in a utterly unnatural fashion, and his once calm and collected demeanor was shattered as he waved his _own _arms violently at me.

"_Ah_! What is the _meaning_ of this? That is a _five thousand dollar chair_! Get down from there this_ instant_!"

At least _Mom_ found the entire scene hilarious in contrast, apparently, because _she _looked as though she was about to _pop_ from all of her lurid laughter.

"It is nice to see that you have retained your sense of _humor_, Almira, but this -- _this_ is _far_ from amusing! Could you _imagine _the absolute_ field day_ the press would have if they saw our beloved country's possible future ruler _romping _around upon a _wonderful_ work of art such as this, like some sort of _Jezebel_?

And you are _not_ helping the situation by basically _encouraging_ it with your lack of _proper _action, or at least one that does not include _raucous guffawing_! A _marvel_ at what two decades away from proper discipline and etiquette can truly do to one so formally _sound_!" Elisud gushed heatedly as he rushed forward to, I guess, pull me off of his beloved chair.

But he didn't _need_ to, because as soon as I heard the words "future ruler" in reference to me, I'd completely lost my balance and fell straight onto my back onto the hard, cold floor.

"Oh, my God, _Will_! Are you all right?" Mom asked frantically, both her and Elisud helping me up onto my feet. At least this was _one_ embarrassing debacle that my unsympathetic high school wasn't _ever_ going to know about.

". . . Y-yeah . . . I'm fine . . . _physically_, anyway," I told her as I this time took a _proper_ seat within the chair instead of _standing_ upon it. "But _emotionally_ is a _whole_ other ballpark. _Please_ . . . for the last time just spit it out! Why did . . . um . . . my uncle just say that I'd be _ruler_ one day? For _what_, Mom?"

Mom sighed heavily again. She only _profusely_ did that whenever she was about to tell me something _really_ upsetting, like the time she had to break the news to me that my pet goldfish had died while I was away at camp back when I was seven, and she tried to replace it before I got back, but it _too_ had died.

But I highly doubted that she was going to tell me something that "not-so-epic" right then (not that I didn't love my goldfish, of course).

"Will . . . I don't really know how to say this," she began weakly, which honestly would have made me thought that she was about to tell me that she' was _dying_ or whatever, had I not been privy to all of that ruling mumbo-jumbo before. "It's . . . it's kind of -- well, it _is_ an_ extremely_ long story . . . But, I . . . I, well . . . I am a princess."

And, despite all of the words that had alluded to this moment, like "king," and "rule," I was still stupidly like, ". . . Okay."

Mom, looking super perplexed, was all, ". . . N-no . . . Honey, I . . . Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

". . . Yeah . . . You said that you're a princess," I replied in a skeptic daze, looking around the room as it suddenly and for some reason fascinated all the more than it previously had. (I guess my brain was having a relapse or something.)

Mom raised an eyebrow in curiosity, probably because she was finding it a bit amazing that I was taking the news of her hidden royal heritage so well.

"Will . . . I . . . I kind of thought that you'd be _freaking out_ or something over this . . . _Especially_ for . . . well, you know, what it means for you, _personally_."

I looked at her blankly a moment, my mind trying to reboot itself for the umpteenth time to try to better process this additional news.

I started to mentally dissect it like a science experiment: _Okay. My mother, Susan Vandom, is a real life, actual princess . . . And so then I, as a result of being born to her, am naturally also . . . a princess._

_Wait_ a second!

My mother is a _princess_, and so too, am _I_??

Welcome back at long _last_, cognizance and logic.

It was then, at that moment that I_ finally_ understood what my mother and her brother had been prattling on about all this time and, quite frankly, the _rest_ of my senses could not at _all_ handle it. Because the _next_ thing I know, I could feel my eyes rolling straight into the back of my head at the same time that my insides grew tingly, queasy and teetering over to the right of the chair as I began to fall out of it once more.

And then everything just went black.

And so now here I am, after being abruptly woken up through the use of super strong smelling salts that some bulky guy I did not recognize and previously was not within the suite (at least, not that I had been _aware _of, anyway) before I'd passed out, while Mom cradled me within her lap.

Like I said, I still feel minutely bad about storming out on her and her brother the way that I had the moment that my head had stopped spinning long enough for me to _do _so. But I just couldn't take hearing the "explanation" that Mom frantically tried to deliver onto me as I fled from the suite and hotel, altogether.

I mean, if _you_ were in _my_ shoes, I know that you would have reacted the same way -- or _worse_, even . . .

_Man_, is it getting cold. Even though I really don't _want_ to, I had _better_ go home, finally. I've been able to dodge Mom's proverbial bullets before in the past, so I'm sure that I can avoid talking about this debacle any further.

Besides, I have a _truckload_ of homework to finish.

Oh, my _God_, am I truly a geek or something. I can't believe that I'm _actually _worried about completing my freaking _homework_ before tomorrow.

There are _far_ more important things going on right now, like the fact that my life as I had once known it is _swiftly_ flying straight out of the window!

* * *

**-- End of Chapter Ten  
**

* * *

**(A.N. There's more, so please to be relaxing. I didn't want to overload everyone's brains by giving the entire "story" in one shot. But of course you know that I will, and it will also, for the most part, make sense. LoL So plllllllllllllllllllease, I'm begging of you: no "how is this possible?/What's the deal with Susan's name?/What the hell is Marsily?" questions in your reviews you might leave me, cuz you know I love you, and wouldn't leave you confused as I ALWAYS am 24/7. That'd be too cruel. LoL)**


	11. Chapter Eleven

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Wow. Went from 51 to 64 reviews on the last chapter, alone. Go, E. Go, E. It's your birthday. LoL Anyway, what a week! Drama, chaos, busy-ness, craziness, oh my! Anyway, enjoy this one. It explains things a tick more.  
_

* * *

This chapter was created in November 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

**Thursday, November 2nd, 12:30 pm,**

**Vandom Loft, My Bedroom**

This morning when I woke up, for the first, maybe _ten seconds_ of being conscious, I had actually believed that what happened to me had been a dream.

I mean, all of it.

The Halloween Ball _fiasco_, as I now refer to it (because _then_ it sounds more like a _collected effort_ at social trauma, and _less_ like the "one-man-job" that it actually _was_), and the repercussions it's had upon my life.

And last, although _sadly _not _least_, the added bonus of finding out that I am a descendant from what I can only assume is a _supremely _long list of _royal monarchs_!

But I'd held onto the extremely small glimmer of hope that it had all been a figment of my imagination. (I mean, I may not be as creative as Hay Lin, but I still have my moments.) Especially since the outside scenery and weather looked so peaceful and beautiful, from what I could see from my place upon my bed.

And _that's_ when the all too familiar phrase popped into my head: "The calm before the storm." Truer words were never spoken, in my opinion, or "line of work," if you catch my meaning.

If I thought _yesterday_ was bad, I honestly would have to be a complete _moron,_ because while the Ball embarrassment might eventually die down, this _princess bit_ was undoubtedly going to get a lot _worse_ before it got any _better_ (if at all).

Still, at least _one _minor "good thing" had come out of waking up today. I have a cold, or head cold, I guess, because after the realization set in that I hadn't been dreaming about the nightmare that is now my _life_, I'd _also _begun to realize that my head was throbbing in congestive pain, and my body kept getting chills.

But even though I felt horrible, there was _no_ way I was going to stay at home and later give my mother a grand opportunity to proverbially corner me once she got home from work, and then force me to listen to her "explanation" she'd already tried to deliver onto me once more after I got home last night.

She waited up for me (I got in at eleven o'clock, even though I'd left the Cineplex around nine. I wanted to clear my head before I went home, so went walking around downtown and even bought myself a root beer float to feel better. Didn't work, though, obviously.), even though she's usually in bed by that time so she can get up for work at five, which is the same time that _I _wake up to have time for breakfast before the bus comes at seven. (That's so funny to think about now. I mean, to try to picture my hardworking mother behind her desk where she works at Simultech, a software-developing company. She's a _princess_. She could probably buy the _entire company,_ or_ pay_ someone to work _for_ her if she wanted.)

But anyway, while Mom had tried to do this, she had also failed (thank _God_), because I told her that I was too tired and just wanted to sleep (which thankfully I did manage to do at least, as soon as my head hit the pillow. So much for doing my homework, though. Guess I'm not such a geek, _after_ all).

So, anyways, when I rolled over to look at my frog alarm clock (which should have tipped me off that something was up when I didn't wake up with a start like I usually do every weekday morning, due to my clock's really loud "ribbit," croaking alarm), I never expected it to read "_11:00 am_."

No _wonder_ I was able to super see outside, now that I think about it. It's still kinda dark when I wake up.

Needless to say, I started to freak out.

It was bad enough that I didn't do my homework, but now I was _massively _late, having already missed four periods. I even began to get a bit perturbed at my mother for not, at the very least, having the _courtesy_ to wake me up when she saw that I wasn't doing so on my own.

But then I remembered that I was mad at her, anyway, and wouldn't have appreciated it if she _had_.

So right as I'm in the middle of scrambling around the room to pull on some clothes with a heavy-feeling head and ice-cold body, in comes Mom, surprisingly, with my favorite frog-decorated bowl that was filled with chicken soup. It was set upon the beige tray that is usually used for "breakfast-in-bed" moments she or I are prone to have on occasion whenever lazy during the weekends.

There were other things on the tray too, like orange juice, Ginger tea, sliced organic wheat bread, orange slices and cough syrup. There were even some of those Almond cookies that I love to eat from Hay Lin's family-owned restaurant, the Silver Dragon.

"_Will_! Honey, what are you _doing_? You should be _resting_! Why are you running around the room like a chicken with its _head_ cut off? Oh, _gosh_! Don't tell me that your fever's gotten _worse_ to the point of _delirium_! I'd better go call the doctor," Mom said after setting down the tray upon my bed, and witnessed me trying to pull on a pair of grass-stained jeans I had left upon the floor near the window to do the laundry with later on this week.

Hearing and _seeing_ Mom be so caring and concerned for my mental and physical well being almost made me feel better about the fact that she's a royal prevaricator (pun _definitely_ not intended).

_Almost_.

Like how that one song goes by that cool female R&B singer: "Almost doesn't count."

So as I watched Mom about to rush toward me, most likely to feel my head for a temperature, I thought to myself: _Stand your ground, Will. Be firm and show no mercy_.

I had _intended _on saying: "I don't _need_ nor _want_ your sympathy, _Mother_. I can take care of _myself_, thank you very _much,_" in as icy a tone as I could manage.

What _had_ come out of my mouth instead was: "_EHF_!"

I had started coughing.

Like _whooping cough_ worthy or something. Extra phlegm-tastic sounding, too. Niiiice and juicy-like . . .

Okay. I'll stop grossing you out, now.

But that's what had happened. And then my mom went, well, all "_Mom_" on me and _also_ super _commando_ or something, the way she practically _long jumped_ her way over to me and helped me back into bed.

_Curse_ these things called "_emotions_." Began to feel_ forgiving_ once more at that moment.

"Will, here . . . Drink some orange juice. It will help you feel better," Mom said to me after handing me the cool glass filled with the citrus beverage. I could only look at her as I took the glass from her hand. I began to wonder what she was still doing at home, and why she wasn't freaking that I'd supremely overslept.

Apparently Mom's a mind reader like Taranee or something, in addition to secretly being a _princess _all this time, because after I'd taken a small sip of the juice and handed it back to her, she goes, "You don't have to worry about being even _more_ late for school, because I'd gone ahead and called the school and told them that you were too sick to come in.

I was so worried about the fever I'd felt when I came in to wake you earlier this morning while getting ready for work, as well. So I too called in sick, to care for you."

_Man_, was this woman not making it easy for me to stay mad at her.

Mom hardly ever called in sick or took a personal day from work, so I was pretty touched to hear that she had _just_ for me.

I was about to clear my throat and tell her that I honestly appreciated her concern, when Mom had to go and ruin the moment by adding: "And, in _this_ way . . . I was sort of hoping that you and I could talk things out . . . _You_ know, about the both of us being princesses . . ."

I knew it. I _knew_ that there _had_ to be a catch, or "chink-in-the-chain" to this whole morning scenario.

Couldn't she have taken _mercy _upon me since I was _sick_?

I guess _not_.

Needless to say that my former amiable feelings towards my mother had _completely_ dissolved by that point.

". . . I'm really not in any mood to do that right now, Mom, thanks," I said after finally clearing my throat, turning my body away from my mother for emphasis.

Yeah. Like a mere body pivot would deter _this_ very stubborn woman's plans to discuss our shared royal history with me. When Mom had her mind set on something, that was pretty much it.

I felt her place one of her hands on top of my thigh and rubbed it in affect.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, but you don't exactly have a choice. _Believe_ me, if I could change it, I _would_, but I _can't_. And _besides_, you're _sick_ -- it's not like you'll get very _far _this time if you tried to run away like you did yesterday. That's what we call _Karma_, your having gotten sick as a result of your leaving and worrying you Mom nearly to _death_," she joked with a smile in her voice, I could hear.

_Figures_ that she would try to pull that "I'm Mom and my word is_ law_" crap that I hate when she tries on me.

Still. She had a point. And worse yet, she _knew_ it.

My head was still pounding a bit and felt super heavy, so I doubt that I'd be able to make it down the block, let alone anywhere else if I _did_ honestly try to bail.

So, with a sigh, I reluctantly turned back to Mom and sat up in the bed.

I guess she wanted me to be as comfortable as possible while listening to her undoubtedly long and nauseating tale, because she began to fluff my pillows behind my back after handing me the bowl of chicken soup.

"Honey," my Mom said softly with a crooked smile after being satisfied with her pillow fluffing job. "I'm pretty positive that all of this isn't easy for you to cope or deal with. But you know . . . it really isn't as 'end of the world' as you're making it seem."

No. Not "end of the world" -- _yet_. At least not until word gets _out_, that is.

Anyway, Mom was apparently waiting for me to say something, because she just _stared_ at me a bit expectantly while I began to play with my soup with my spoon like a three year old. But after she saw that I hadn't any intent on saying a word, she continued on.

"Will, baby, in _retrospect_, I should have told you the truth when you were younger so that you could have grown accustomed to everything," she said, idly stretching out and balling up her fingers while she spoke.

I guess telling the _truth_ for once made her nervous. And to think of all of the times she'd given me a hard time for supposedly keeping things from her (even though, to be fair, I kinda sorta was. But still).

"But I didn't want you to grow up with an inflated ego and unrealistic ideals or perception on life. I knew that you'd have to know one day, no matter _what_ or _how_ I felt about it, since it'd mean that you'd one day be ruler -- but I wanted you to grow up with a sense of value and realism, that I knew you would most likely would not have, _otherwise_."

I started to think about how I suppose that reasoning and logic made sense, when my mind immediately shifted and was like: _There's that word again: "ruler."_

So I instantly stopped playing with my soup and frowned at Mom while I was all, "Why do you keep _saying_ that? Why would_ I_, of all people, become ruler to this country I've _never_ even heard of, when it's got -- what was his name again? _Elliot_ or whatever as its _current_ monarch?"

Mom only looked at me sadly. She looked as though she was regretting having said anything at _all_, or that she'd waited so long to _do_ so.

_Either_ way? I _wholeheartedly_ concur.

"Well, I'm not honestly all that surprised that you haven't heard of Marsily, honey, despite it being quite the popular country for both its import _and_ exports. You never really _were_ all that fond of geography and things of the political nature -- which is going to make this entire 'experience' that more difficult for you to adapt to, considering all of the things you'll now have to learn," Mom foreshadowed, before hurriedly moving on before I could say anything about it.

"_Anyway_, your uncle's name is _Elisud_, not _Elliot_. And _he _is king only because _I_ had chosen not to become _queen _. . ."

Although I was growing less and less sympathetic and more and more _aggressive_ and _tired_, I _will_ admit that I _was _a bit intrigued to hear of the bogus excuse Mom was going to feed me about all of this.

So after taking a sip from my now cold cup of tea, I said, ". . . Okay. I'll bite. _This _ought to be good."

Mom licked her lips and sighed.

"Like I told you when I tried to begin explaining it all to you yesterday, it is a long, _complicated_ story. But you _have_ to understand what you're about to get yourself into," she said. "You see, Marsilian law states that only the _first_ born child within the royal family -- _regardless _of gender -- will be considered the 'true ruler.' That is, he or she will be the only one eligible to ascend the throne as future king or queen of Marsily."

I guess I had this really skeptic or confused look upon my face at that point, because Mom continued with, "_You_ know. In the same way that it is usually the male royal who can and will be eligible to take the throne as ruler of their kingdom and country, even if there's a female born into the family, as well? Well, that's how it is in _Marsily_, only it is the _first _born who can do so, as I'd said. I suppose you can say that my -- _our_ country is all about '_equal opportunity_.'"

Lucky _me_, to be born into a sovereign nation that actually acknowledges equal rights among the sexes.

"I loved my country. I still _do_. And I also miss it _terribly_ -- more than I ever thought I would, I've realized recently . . . but I don't regret my decision," Mom said with another sigh before looking out the window. "It's just that . . . I was so _young_! And all of the _rules_ and _guidelines_ a-and _etiquette_ that I had to be aware of and follow -- it was too much _pressure_!

But not because I was a princess. _Admittedly_, I could and _did _cope with that, because it was what I was born _into_, you know? But the _pressure _was building everyday, of every _month_, of every _year_, because I was the kingdom's -- the _country's_ future ruler. Their _queen _. . .

Now, it wasn't to say that I would have made a _horrible_ queen, or that I was upset with the law. It was just that I had _so_ many dreams and _aspirations_, desires to travel and -- and to be _free_! To go to _college_ wherever I wanted and to study _whatever_ I wanted! Like _engineering_, as aspects of the scientific and technical nature has _always_ enticed me . . . which I guess is where _you_ got it from -- your natural scientific talents, I mean."

_Clearly_, I've _also_ inherited my nasty habit of dwelling over my personal issues and my "Me-me-me" moments from Mom, as _well_, because she was _definitely_ diving into one of those moments, _herself_. I mean, did she even stop to honestly _think_ before she spoke? Because there she was, telling me about how scared she had been to take on this huge responsibility and instead only wanted to live out all of her dreams, when that's _exactly_ how _I_ feel and what _I_ want to do, _myself_.

I'm only _seventeen_, for goodness sake! I don't _need_ this.

I felt my eyes begin to water slightly as I silently reflected upon all of this, but quickly blinked them away before they could fall and before Mom could see. The _last_ thing I needed was her obsessing over my crying and wanting to proverbially kiss the boo-boos away. Not when I honestly just wanted to punch a hole in the wall (or even her _face_, I'm sorry. Yeah. Note to self: _Definitely_ schedule an Anger Management appointment, for _sure_, as I am now _officially_ starting to scare myself with my surprising temper).

Anyway, I guess my mom didn't seem to notice my actions, apparently, because she only continued on in her story.

"A-_anyhow_, _obviously_ my parents -- the entire_ kingdom_ -- had envisioned other plans for me . . .

And so, when it was approaching my eighteenth birthday, after grappling with the pros and cons of what I was about to do, I had taken a bold move and formally announced my abdicating from the throne, and that Elisud would be ruling in my stead . . .

It's not like that doing so was against the law or what have you, it's just that it was an action that hadn't been taken since back in 1508, as I understand, by one of our ancestors I honestly cannot even recall any longer. So you can imagine how 'popular' I was all the more to do what I'd done . . ."

My mom paused and looked at me with teary eyes of her own. I'll admit that my heart did that twinging thing it does whenever I feel surprised, nervous or guilty about something when I saw this. But I was still feeling far too upset and physically sick to properly react.

So all I did was give a little grunt in acknowledgment before she took it as a signal to continue speaking.

". . . My _biggest_ qualm over my decision was not its impact upon the country, though, but its impact upon _Elisud_ . . . He was only _fifteen _at the time I had left. And even though he was born into privilege and royalty from the start as I had been, he was still so _young_, you know? To go from _one_ minute being one of my main supporters who would help me effectively rule within the future, to have to take on _my_ former responsibilities and rule, _himself _one day . . . He and I used to be so close . . . So to do that to him without giving him at least a head's up or something about it, and to leave him behind while_ I_ went to study and explore abroad . . .

Now that I'm more mature, I realize that I could have been a bit more sensitive and aware of his feelings . . . Maybe _then _he and I would not be estranged to one another as we are now and have been for decades, and he would not _resent_ me as he obviously does . . ."

Well, _that _certainly explained Mom's brother's pretty rude, cold and distant behavior towards her yesterday. Right _now_, though, I have _zero_ sympathy over that, and am siding with_ him_, a guy I've only known for less than _twelve hours_, over my _mother's_, a woman I have known since the day I was _born_.

Something very wrong with that picture? Yeah, I think so, too. What a _wonderful_ family I have.

". . . So then why is he saying that _I'm_ going to rule? Isn't _he_ ruling? He doesn't look very _old_ to me that he has to already retire or whatever, unless your country made a law that states you gotta do so while still in your prime or something," I told her quietly, staring hard at her. My voice tends to get pretty "soft" whenever I'm upset or angry, and I guess my mom has always noticed that, herself, because she winced slightly before answering.

"Well no, of _course_ not, Will. And of _course_ Elisud isn't '_old_.' He _is_ only thirty-six. But remember what I've already said, sweetie: the _first _born is revered as the 'true ruler.' And because _I_ had been born first but later renounced my title, and then had you with your father . . . that responsibility . . . that _right_ had passed onto _you _. . ."

Wonderful. Basically what the gist is, due to the mere fact of my having been born, even well before that, my destiny had long since been set in stone to be a freaking queen. Just _wonderful_.

"I know, I _know_. It really _isn't_ fair to dump all of this onto you like this, _especially_ when you have only a few _months _to make your official, final decision on whether or not you want to actually be queen one day," Mom said, studying my utterly surprised and queasy expression I had then plastered onto my face due to her previous news.

But then, a small ray of hope began to shine through this darkened nightmare when my brain had managed to focus on the fact that my mom had also just said that I apparently had a choice. And yeah, why the hell not? She had chosen to ditch her role as queen. Of course, she also had her brother to more or less act as her scapegoat. I'm not so "lucky" in that front.

So I asked, "W-wait . . . You mean I honestly and true have a choice in all of this? I mean, I don't have to be queen or princess or any of that? I can just say no?"

Mom, I guess, wasn't expecting me to say this, because she gasped lightly in surprise or whatever, like it was such a shock that I would actually want to turn down the "opportunity" to rule over a country that is foreign to me in every sense of the word.

Again, I ask: why the hell not if she had done the same?

"Well . . . yeah , Will . . . But just like when I was eighteen and made the decision of 'yay or nay' to rule, the age recognized as entering 'adulthood' officially, _you _will _also_ have to make the same decision then as _well_, since you _too _will be an adult and 'ready' to take on the responsibilities as future queen . . ."

I was confused right then, and it exuded itself through my "fluent" speech.

"B-b-but, wait! You just said that I c-c-could g-get out of i-it! Y-you did!" I exclaimed, my heartbeat pounding within my head.

Mom worriedly rested a hand upon it to check to see if my fever really hadn't risen just in case as she responded.

"True, Will, but I had thought long and hard about it. And _besides_, even if _I _didn't rule, I knew that the kingdom would still remain within the DeMontaimont family, because my_ brother _would rule in my place. Whereas _you_ . . . You don't_ have _any siblings, and so, I'm sorry to say, have no _choice_ in the matter, as far as I can tell you . . ."

Great. _Now_ she was trying to guilt-trip me into taking up this responsibility-turned-obligation that I most certainly did not want to do.

"So why tell me that I only have a few months to 'decide' whether or not I want to become queen if there _won't _be any deciding involved?" I cried out, folding my arms across my chest in monstrous agitation.

Mom only sighed again for the umpteenth time before pausing. Maybe she was trying to figure out how to say "It _sucks_ to be _you_" as delicately as possible, without causing one of my _blood vessels_ to rupture from all of the extreme stress I was now going through.

Finally, she goes, ". . . I-I guess . . . That is, in _your _case, think of it as a mere _formality_, since, as you pointed out, there really '_won't_ be any deciding involved . . .'"

I was speechless. Utterly and _profoundly_ speechless. But _mainly_ because I felt I was about five seconds away from_ blowing chunks_ all over the bed as my sickness increased in . . . well, _sickness_.

"It_ totally_ sucks, I know. And as much as I love you and have _always_ wanted children, I had _also_ made the hard decision _not_ to have any children once I'd left Marsily to live my own life," Mom said, awkwardly reaching out to take an Almond cookie from off of my plate. She didn't then raise it to her mouth to eat, though, but instead just began to break it into smaller, messy pieces as she continued on.

"I knew what it would mean if I ever _did_ . . . But then I had met your father while in college, and one thing led to another and . . . Well, you know the rest of _that _story, at least . . ."

Right. Like knowing _that_ "story" makes me feel any better. It's _just_ as Topsy-Turvy as _this_ one's shaping out to be.

Even though deep down I knew that it wasn't what she was trying to say at all, I uncontrollably blurted out to my mom, "So . . . _what_? You're trying to say that you _regret_ ever having me with Dad? Or having me, _period_? Like I was some _mistake_?"

Lame and selfish, _big_ time, I know. But I was approaching states of delirium that my mother had ironically been so worried about earlier on. I was liable to say _anything_ by _that_ point.

If you ever want to either completely piss off or hurt your mother tremendously, say such a thing as that to her. Because that's exactly what happened to my mother. She_ looked_ hurt, but _sounded_ utterly pissed when she answered my stupid question.

"How could you _say_ that? Of _course_ you weren't a _mistake_ or _regret_! After I'd met your father and had fallen in love with him, I could no longer imagine _not_ ever having children with him -- not having children, _period_ . . . And once I had found out that I was pregnant with you . . . even _before_ you were born, I was in love with you. So don't you _ever_ feel or think that I never have, do you _understand_?"

Note to self: never pull that idiotic stunt again.

Nodding slowly, I took a breath, at the same time Mom was taking several to calm herself, and hesitantly asked, "So . . . did . . . I mean, does Dad know that you are a princess? I mean, did you ever tell him while you two were dating?"

Mom's face greatly relaxed as she responded.

". . . Not at first, no. Not because I didn't trust him, but because I wanted him to love me for _who _I am, not for _what_ I am. And he didn't _seem_ to suspect anything, although during our first date he _did _say that I looked a bit familiar to him. I guess it was because I had decided to 'dress-to-impress,' and maybe he might have remembered seeing my face in an old magazine or something."

"So when did you finally tell him the truth?" I asked next without missing a beat, wanting to finish this conversation so I could finally get some rest.

Mom nodded in acknowledgment, reaching for another Almond cookie after having completely demolished the first one through her anger.

"After our divorce. I don't know _why_, really. I suppose I just wanted to 'come clean' about everything, even though I owed him _nothing_ by the end of our relationship. And I guess to _also_ let him know what it would mean for _you_ one day, since you _are _his daughter, as well, you know?" she answered my questioned with a question, breaking the sugary treat into minuscule pieces like the first.

"And _wouldn't_ you know it that I was _right_ not to tell him who I really was, and _wrong_ to ever trust him? Because as _soon_ as I told him the truth and showed him proof in case he wouldn't believe me, Thomas was _so_ quick to change his tune. Yeah, talked about 'wanting to patch things up' and 'stay together for the sake of our child,' he told me.

I couldn't _believe_ the _audacity _of that man! It was _one_ thing to go after me for my family's money, but to involve an_ innocent child_ -- his own _daughter_ as a _trump card_? It was the _final_ straw for me. And so that's when I'd cut all ties of communication with him . . . and when he, for lack of a better word, had become a bit _obsessed _with wanting to reap _some_ type of benefits or 'reparations' from having been married to me . . ."

Well, geez. I knew that my parent's marriage hadn't exactly been the greatest, and that he was essentially a sneaky . . . well, _bastard_. But I never thought that he would try to use Mom as his own personal "_Cash Cow_" or something.

Then again, by _now_ I would not really put it past him, _sadly_ . . .

". . . What name did you tell Dad or go by when you met and were dating?" I asked tiredly, rubbing at my temples to try to lull my growing headache.

"What?"

"Well, yeah, because I remember that Ell -- I mean, _what's-his-face_ kept calling you '_Almira_,' and you'd get upset with him whenever he had, going on about how that's not your name or whatever."

"_Elisud_, Will. 'El-ee-sood.' But I think it would just be _easier_ for you -- for _now_, at least -- to just call him 'Eli,'" Mom said with a small smile before moving on. "_Anyway_, Almira . . . _is_ my name. My _birth_ name . . . My _full_ name is Almira Lilith DeMontaimont . . . I don't suppose my parents had much of an imagination -- at least, not when I was_ born_, anyway -- because my name literally translates into 'Princess of the night . . .' Because I had been born in the evening and am a princess, you get it."

Uh huh. _That_ mouth full was going to take a little time to memorize.

"So then, why --"

"-- Do I go by the name 'Susan?' I thought that would have been _obvious_ by now. Because I didn't want to take even the _slightest _chance of anyone realizing who I was, if they'd never seen my picture but remembered my name," Mom revealed after interrupting me. "Plus, I knew that my parents had sent bodyguards to secretly watch over me while I did my 'living,' even though they thought that I wasn't aware. But they _didn't_ count on their daughter being quite _cunning_ when it came to becoming 'invisible.' I had snuck out of the palace _countless_ times growing up without ever getting caught, after all," she said with a small, reflective chuckle.

"But _anyway_, I've _always _liked the name 'Susan' and had planned on giving it to my future daughter, but obviously decided to adopt the name for _myself_ and had named _you_ 'Wilhelmina.' It works out, though, because _I _look like more of a 'Susan' than _you_ do."

Ugh. Speak for yourself, woman. I would have _settled_ with "Susan," or even "Katie" or "Gina." Short and pleasant names.

Okay. _Another_ note to self: 1, stop obsessing over my hatred for my birth name; and 2, remember that I can legally change my name once I am eighteen, if _bearing_ the name becomes too excruciating.

Shaking my head while beginning to frown lightly, I said, "That didn't answer my question, though -- not _really_, anyway. Did Dad know your _name_-name, or your _fake_ name?"

Mom chuckled again, this time at my choice of poor descriptive words.

"No, Will. Your dad _didn't_ know about my real name until I'd told him the truth, obviously. But it's good that you've asked me _about_ names, because that brings me to the important topic of this entire discussion."

_I'm_ sorry, but wasn't all of this drama_ gobbledygook _she'd been dragging me through for the past half and hour or so considered "important?" I suppose I must have missed something due to my illness.

"You see, Will, you're not --"

"-- Ah! I see you are, how you say, 'setting the record straight,' Almira. Good. _Now_ we can get a move on in Wilhelmina's princess lessons and coronation," me and Mom suddenly heard Elisud say in the doorway of my room.

Sure enough, there he was, standing in yet _another_ Armani-type suit and black hair slicked back like yesterday.

I began to idly wonder if he owned any _other_ kinds of clothing _besides_ suits, when Mom heatedly blurted out,

"_Elisud_! Good _God_, man! You _startled_ me!" Mom said. "I thought I told you that I would take _care_ of this, _myself_, and that Will and I would both meet you back at the plaza later on? How did you find out where we live, _anyhow_?"

Elisud smirked in amusement at this.

"You _are_ joking, yes? Did you _honestly _believe that I would let you out of my sight for even a _moment_ after finally having located you? And let you get a chance to _finagle_ out of your part and responsibility to guide your daughter through this? I think _not_," Elisud explained. "_Anyhow_, I thought it best to . . . 'drop by' and assist in delivering the news to young Wilhelmina, as well. _That_ way I will not have to later repeat myself once the lessons and what you have get under wa --"

"-- U-um, _Mom_? What is he talking about? _What_ 'princess lessons?' And coronation? Is he _kidding_?" I asked stupidly. I say "stupidly" because, the _coronation_ part, at least, had been more or less implied since the start of all of this. So I don't really know why I was so surprised.

But I'm just going to blame my utter confusion upon my weakened physical state.

Anyway, I guess Mom was wondering the same thing, because she goes, "Well . . . _no_, honey. Haven't you been paying attention to _anything _I have told you, or what Elisud _and_ I had _begun_ to yesterday? This isn't a _game_, or just a name-only type of deal. You know, that you're _only_ a princess _by_ name," Mom said.

"You mean to tell me that you have _yet_ to tell her the primary reason I have come to the United States in the _first_ place? Oh, let me handle it," Elisud said in annoyance.

"Elisud, please! Of course I have! But Will's also sick right now! It's a bit overwhelming to her, I'm sure! Just let me --"

"-- Wilhelmina, what your mother has _undoubtedly_ been_ stumbling_ over herself to tell you is that, you are hereby no longer Wilhelmina Janan Vandom -- as your mother has informed me of -- some 'commoner'-like teenager from . . . what the devil is this town called again? Ah, _yes_! _Heatherfield_," he said with a wave of his hand to both my mother and me.

I blinked in confusion while Mom slapped a hand to her forehead and exhaled yet again.

". . . Wait. _What_?" was all I could manage. I mean, it's _one_ thing to tell me that I'm a stupid princess. But to tell me that my entire_ identity_ is not only "_frivolous_," as the man _obviously_ perceives it as, but it will now cease to _exist_?

In the immortal words of _Popeye the Sailor Man_: "That's all I can't stands, I can't stands no more!"

". . . Your uncle's _right_, Will . . . although I wouldn't have described it as '_colorfully_' as _he_ had," Mom said, breaking through my thoughts. "A-_anyway_, you are _now_ Wilhelmina Janan Vandom DeMontaimont, Princess of Marsily . . ."

You have _got_ to be kidding me. You mean, I'm going to have go around writing or saying that entire blurb from now on? _Forget_ it.

"_Too_ right! And now that _that_ is finally settled, we can begin your princess lessons to prepare you for your coronation and upcoming duties as future queen," Elisud said proudly. "I can and _will_ teach you to walk, talk, eat, drink -- do _everything_ like a true and proper princess! And once --"

"-- What? No, _way_! Why do I need to t-take . . . p-p-_princess lessons_ for? I don't w-_want_ this! I-I don't want _any _of this!" I exclaimed, beginning to blubber like a complete baby after finally focusing on the second half of my uncle's absurdity. (So much for not wanting to cry in front of my mother, right?)

_Princess lessons_. Just like that chick in the movie I told you I had seen.

Talk about life imitating art . . .

Mom was at _least_ sympathetic, while _Elisud_ was a different story. Well, no. He only _looked_ pissed off or whatever, but sounded just as, if not _more_ sympathetic to my plight. (I was about to _say_, considering once upon a time he had gone through the same thing, himself, "thanks" to Mom as he'd said yesterday.)

"I am sorry to hear that, Wilhelmina . . . But you do not exactly have a choice. There are no others who can rightfully rule in your place -- you _are_ indeed Marsily's true ruler," he said. "So . . . the _sooner_ we begin your princess lessons, the _easier_ this extreme transition will be . . ."

I guess both Mom _and _Elisud felt sorry or guilty to see me sobbing uncontrollably on _top_ of being sick, because they suddenly left the room without a word (well, not before Mom gave me a kiss and tight hug, anyway).

Obviously I've stopped crying since then (well, _kind_ of. My eyes still tear up from time to time), but I'm _still_ pretty upset over it. I mean, I guess, even though all I've been hearing since yesterday was rule _this_, princess _that_, it didn't _really_ all connect for me until this very moment, you know?

I am _seriously_ going to have to rule over a bunch of people I've never even _met_, in a country I've never even _visited,_ let _alone _really _heard _of before, and there doesn't seem to be much I can do about it.

Lucky _Mom_ that _she_ had a "backup plan" in her brother, because then_ she_ was at least able to get out of it. Story of my life that _I _cannot share within that same fortune.

God, I can't_ believe_ that I have to take freaking _princess lessons_! For _what_?

I ask you, seriously here.

To learn to be some damsel-in-distress, while my Prince Charming fights off the evil dragon or whatever in order to save me?

Ha. Several things wrong with _that_ picture.

_First_ off, I am _more_ than capable of taking care of myself. I mean, I _do_ save millions upon _millions_ over and over, don't I? And_ second_, I don't _have_ a "Prince." And since I've given up on snagging _Caleb_, it's pretty much _over _for me. (Although now that I'm a princess, I'll probably have a billion and one_ suitors_, right? Umpteenth note to self: ask "Eli" about this.)

Oh, my God. What _about _that? The Guardian gig, I mean. Now that I am being forced to be this royal figure I don't _want _to be, what will that mean for _W.I.T.C.H._? Will I have to pull a _Nerissa_ kinda, and pass on the Heart of Candracar to one of the girls? Well, not like Nerissa had a _choice_ or did that passing of her own free will, since she was out of her _mind_ by that point, but _still_ . . . I've been a Guardian of the Veil for _so_ long, I can't honestly imagine my life no longer _being_ one.

Plus, _without_ me, W.I.T.C.H. becomes "_I.T.C.H._" How stupid and _gross_ would_ that_ be?

Ouch. My head hurts tremendously now. I think I'm gonna take a nap before even _more_ drama ensues . . .

**-- End of Chapter Eleven  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Hope you enjoyed the little "shout out" to you guys, Gina and Katie. I do what I can. LoL Anyway, nine pages. Average minimum for me, since I usually end up with twenty pages before I'm finished with a chapter, but yeah. LoL This will suffice for now. I'm tired! LoL What a confusing family history, huh? I know. Imitates Jim Breuer in "Half Baked:" "Sucks to be YOU, mannnn!" LoL Ah, so many references to my personal life in this chapter, it's not even funny . . . Hmm. Wonders if anyone will figure out what it is And poor Will. More and more drama. LoL Before you say it, Janan is the middle name I'd given to her. So if she's got one I'm obviously not aware of, too bad. LoL I chose Janan for her because, besides being a pertyful name, it means "heart" or "soul." And since her first name means "desire" or "protection" I was like, let's make a connection to that. LoL But yeah. Me likie "Susan's" name too. You don't? Ohhhh well. Can't think of anything else to address right now before you come at me with it, so ah well. Later, 'gators!)**


	12. Chapter Twelve

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Let us set the record straight before I get more "realistic" people coming at me with junk. Yes, I have been extremely aware from the get that, honestly no one: not her mother and other family members, or even authority figures like police, etc, could ever force Will to be an active princess (i.e. rule). I've always been aware of her legal rights in the matter, so I didn't need anyone to point that out to me. So thanks for head's up, but you've only wasted both of our times. Yep. LoL Anyhow, and as XV-Dragon also pointed out, it would not at all be fun to read if everything could be resolved so swiftly as it honestly would "in real life" (even though I have and am trying to stay as "realistic" as possible, vs. fairytale-ish). Not to mention pointless for me to continue writing (and damned if I wouldn't get a billion reviews of "Ok...that's it? THAT'S how it ends? And already? With Will saying 'No thanks!' and that's that?" if I DID end the story right now. Fickle...cough...LoL). But like I always say, don't like it, don't read it. The rest of you, thanx for enjoying it as well as for the support._

* * *

This chapter was created in November 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

**Thursday, November 2nd, 1:15 pm,**

**Vandom Loft, My Bedroom**

Sucks. Couldn't really sleep. Well, no, I_ did_, but I kept_ thinking_ at the same time that I tried to fall unconscious.

Came up with yet _another_ list about something to add to this diary in the meantime, though:

**WILL VANDOM'S OFFICIAL PROS AND CONS LIST TO BEING A PRINCESS **

**PRO #1:** If Elyon Brown can handle being one (well, _queen _by now), and has been doing it for _years _now with minimal difficulty (now that her _psycho_ brother, Phobos, has stopped trying to _kill_ her, that is), then _I _can too . . . I _think_.

* * *

**CON #1:** Elyon was briefly corrupted and manipulated as a _result_ of being a princess, and almost killed her friends as a result . . . . . Okay, okay. To be fair, I can't _really_ count that one because it wasn't her fault, and it wasn't just _because_ she was princess that Lord Cedric and reject Phobos set out to turn her against the girls and me, but _primarily _because she has immense mystical power, but _still_. Do-over.

* * *

**CON #1:** Elyon gets to more or less "_secretly_" rule, due to the fact that she originally hails from an entirely separate plane of existence. So no one on Earth (besides us, obviously) is actually aware of her royal heritage. _I_ should be so lucky, right?

**PRO #2:** If I truly set my mind to it, I could probably make some serious changes for the _better_, for millions of people.

**CON #2:** I could _also_ probably end up making a complete_ ass _of myself in _front _of millions, and screw up the good thing they might already have going before _I_ came into the picture.

**PRO #3: **I will become famous.

**CON #3: **I will become famous (like _that_ was ever really a "pro" to begin with).

**DOUBLE CON:** I could have creepy people obsessing over me, who might try to kidnap or even _assassinate_ me or something like that.

**DOUBLE PRO:** I will have the element of surprise on my side, in _addition_ to the elements, _period_, as me and the other Guardians can kick the would-be perpetrator's ass straight into next week.

That's all I can think of right now. My head's still fuzzy and I'm not really making super sense just yet. But it _has_ at _least_ made me feel better, put things in perspective, _and _has given me an idea . . .

Oh. Matt's instant messaging me. Gotta go.

**-- End of Chapter Twelve  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Ah well. Won't let me keep the strikeout feature I'd used for Will's original Con #1. So I just used the border line to illustrate her "isolating" it. Whatever. LoL Oh yeah. Forgot. Yes, "Nova the Red Assassin," the song Will was talking about was Brandy's "Almost Doesn't Count." Good "ear" LoL Anyways, I've always realized from the start that Will's a bit whiny and submissive in this story as "colorfully" pointed out to me. But again, it wouldn't be a really fun read if all she did was bash people's heads in left and right and was like "No way!" from the very start. Although she DID want to at least bash her MOM'S face in, and WAS kinda "No way"-ish. LoL And yeah, Shin, it IS a tick "odd" that it's only now she's focused on what it'll mean for her Guardian duties, but maybe she was too shocked AND sick to do so earlier on. Of course, if it were me, that'd be the first thing I'd think of. LoL Anyway, I'm kinda turned off to this right now, so I'm gonna update my Tears of Redemption story next. No, this isn't me saying this story's over, or that I'm all "boo hoo"-ish about stuff that went down. I could honestly produce several more chapters back to back for this and actually have but have to edit them and all that, but I miss writing drama and Inferno05's been missing my updates for T.O.R. LoL So yeah. Stay tuned)**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Foowah. Evil work and other responsibilities. For ONCE? I've nothing major to say in this note. LoL So enjoy._

* * *

This chapter was created in December 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Thursday, November 2nd, 1:15 pm,**

**Vandom Loft, My Bedroom**

Oh, my God. You will _never_ believe what just happened.

Talk about embarrassing.

_Understatement_, really, which actually doesn't say much in overall terms to my life lately, but _still_.

I think that it could actually give the H.B.F. (Halloween Ball Fiasco, yes) a run for its money as a close call for first place.

Okay. Enough rambling.

What am I going on about? Well, like I said in my last entry, Matt had text messaged me in the middle of my writing my emotionally healing "pros and cons" list (well, it _kind _of healed me emotionally, anyway), and . . .

Well, here. Let me just quickly jot down what our conversation was like (with after-effect commentary thrown in by me in parentheses):

Matt's Phone Text: Hey, Kermit. U dead?

My Phone Text?

Matt's Phone Text: Gasp! She's still functional.

My Phone Text: Am I missing something?

Matt's Phone Text: LoL Not really, no. We all just figured that the reason u've been M.I.A. & seeming to avoid us was b/c u got kidnapped & hacked up into fish bait.

_(See how eerie that that boy seems to always be on the same wavelength or something as mine? Maybe I'll hire him as Chief Ambassador or Executive of something. At least then I'll have one person in my stupid royal court who won't think that I'm a total screw up. God, now I'm depressed again . . .)_

My Phone Text: Ha Ha, very funny, Shaggy.

_(That's my nickname for him, since he refuses to cut his hair. I've always found it "mesmerizing," when I had liked him and we were still dating, but now . . . It's still cool and all, but it looks like a brown colored mop that's permanently set upon his head. No, no. That's just gross. Okay, more like "Cousin It." Boy. It's amazing what one notices about another once the proverbial "Beer Goggles" of love have been taken off . . . Wait. No. Beer Goggles are for inebriated people, and the whole perceiving one they used to deem unattractive as hot or whatever. This is more like Rose-colored glasses being taken off, then. Only, I still love Matt. Just, not love-love. Whatever! Ugh, I hate being sick. I make zero sense, and ramble on like a buffoon.)_

Matt's Phone Text: So ok. Ur fine. So what's up, then? 1, where were u 2-day? 2, y have u not been returning any of the girls' calls or msgs, prd, within the last 2 days, & 3, what's this I hear about u ditching swim practice?

_(Again that's when I thought about this place being a small town, the moment I'd read all of that from Matt. And then it made me feel worse that: 1, I had to miss practice over something so dumb as being the apparent sole heir to a throne that I don't even want, and now that I'm sick will probably risk missing more practice time, thus ruining my chances of winning; and 2, if word gets out that I am a princess before it's supposed to or whatever, it'll spread like wildfire in no time at all. I really need to be home schooled from now on.)_

My Phone Text: I have a very good reason 4 all of it: I'm sick.

_(I guess being sick had come in handy, after all. Now, when Gracie chews me out for missing practice, I can tell her that I had fallen ill, which would be the truth. Now, the girls will be trickier to convince, since usually whenever I or they are sick, that's when we contact one another the most, so we won't die of boredom if our sickness didn't do us in first.)_

Matt's Phone Text: IC. Well, that explains it, least. Guess I can't come over 2 drop off ur hmwrk then, huh?

My Phone Text: Cripes. Almost 4-got about that in all of the commotion.

Matt's Phone Text: Commotion? What commotion? _(Oops.)_

My Phone Text: Uh, u know. Being sick & delirious _(Smooth.)_

Matt's Phone Text: Not much of a stretch from how u r when healthy, kid LoL

My Phone Text: Stow it. NE way, get back 2 math wrk b4 u get detention, which u'd deserve 4 that shot, btw.

Matt's Phone Text: Wouldn't happen. The lady 3's me. Then again, what lady doesn't?

_(Gotta admire his strong ego.)_

My Phone Text: Um, me?

Matt's Phone Text: U don't count. Ur what I like 2 call a "brief moment of insanity." Besides, Professor Kopilak wasn't there, 2 day. Study hall instead, cuz the sub was a prof. in English, not Math -- a fine example of our tax $ wrk. NE way, he let us out a bit early & so here I am.

_(Figures that there'd be a substitute teacher for my math class when I'm not there to enjoy it.)_

My Phone Text: 1, bite me, Shaggy. Like u were some prize, ur self. I dumped u, remember? & 2, what do u mean "here u r?" & I g2g. These texts r goin 2 kill my phone bill. Urs 2, u cheapskate bastard.

Matt's Phone Text: 1 to ur 1: I don't know where u've been, so no thanx. I might catch w/e rabid disease u so obviously harbor. Oh, & my records show that I dumped u. 2 to ur 2: My job pays btr than urs, baby cakes, so nice try on that one. & 3? I mean that I'm here, right outside of ur loft. Thought I'd check in on u b4 heading 2 the gym. So u'd btr apologize after I get in there. 'Bye.

And before I could send another text back, saying no, I could hear Matt already knocking on the front door.

Don't get me wrong.

It's not that I didn't want to see him. On the contrary. I could honestly use the company of the non-_familial_ variety, and Matt's usually great at lifting up my spirits by distracting me with non-related, more _humorous_ situations (unless all I want to do is _cry_, then he just hugs me until I've had my fill. It's kind of like having a big brother. Well, a _nice_ big brother, anyway, like Peter, _Taranee's_ brother).

But I didn't want to run the risk of my mother stupidly telling him "who I really am." Or _worse_, what if "Eli" was still hanging around, and _he_ ended up telling him?

No. Freaking. _Way_.

At least Matt would never believe it.

Well, no he _might_. I mean, he believed me when I had admitted to being a Guardian of the Veil alongside the girls, after confessing it to him a few months after we'd broken up.

Well . . . after he'd accidentally seen the "proof," anyway.

_Anyway_, no matter _how_ Matt reacted to this _new_ news, if he found out (which I would prefer that it happen _after _I've graduated from high school and move far away and onto a _private island_ or something), _I_ wanted to be the one to tell him -- _not_ crazy Eli.

So, as soon as I heard that knock, I panicked and scrambled out of bed as fast as I could (however, _not_ before "kissing" the floor first, due to my having gotten tangled within my bedsheets, and fell onto the floor as a result), but wasn't quick enough, sadly. (Of _course_, right?)

_Instead_, I end up barreling into the sable-colored back of some chick who _apparently_ had been standing as though on guard in front of my door.

"_Ahh!_" I completely screamed out in surprise as I fell right on top of the dark haired woman and my heart went right up into my throat, while _she_ only emitted a tiny groan like she was used to this sort of thing happening to her or whatever.

I would've been even _more_ embarrassed by the calamity, had I not then, to my _horror_, witnessed Matt being _bum-rushed_ by three _mega_ bulky-looking guys, _all _of whom were dressed in black just like the woman. They all looked like the guy I had seen in the plaza suite after I'd been woken up by smelling salts.

And so, even though I hadn't quite yet put two and two together, I still immediately knew that this was "royal related," and that I would be in _major_ trouble when it came time to explaining everything to Matt (assuming that he hadn't gotten the _wind_ knocked out of him and passed _out_).

"What is the meaning of this? Wilhelmina, what are you doing out of bed? A young princess needs her rest," Eli regrettably told me from his place in the living room. He was causally seated and calmly sipping on what I suppose is a cup of tea.

I chose to ignore him as the female version of "_M.I.B._" helped me onto my feet and I scanned the room for Mom. I figured that maybe _she_ could be useful and help me to buffer things out while I tried to explain things to the now _flabbergasted_-looking Matt (whom the guards or _whomever_ roughly began to pull onto his _own _feet just then).

"W . . . what the hell -- is -- going -- _on_!? W-_Will_! Who _are_ these dudes? Who's _that_ freaking guy? And where is your _mom_? _Holy Christ!_ Don't tell me that I was _right_ about your having been _kidnapped_?" Matt asked frantically in between breaths, with a _massively_ distinct air of fear decorating his speech.

You could _totally_ tell that he was thinking something like:

_I love you, Will -- you're my best friend. But had I known that this was what was going on for real, I totally would've gone straight to the gym, instead._

Can't say that I'd blame him to think that way. I know that I'd probably do the same thing. Well, maybe. At least, I would if the person were _Mary Rosenberg _who was in danger, anyway.

_Anyhow_, growing nauseous all over again, I managed to wrench myself free of the guard-chick's _kung fu-like_ grip and scrambled over to Matt, who was _still_ being manhandled by the trio of might.

"H-_hey_, _Matt_! Right on time! Thanks for bringing over my _homework_!" I said nervously, putting emphasis upon Matt's name and the part about homework, just in case Eli and his "cronies" would still have suspicions about Matt and think he was a _stalker_ or whatever, as they all obviously seemed to believe. (Well, maybe not _Eli_, since _he_ continued to sip away at his warm beverage as though without a care in the world. I guess his bodyguards or other people who protect him back home were well trained and did their jobs well, each and every time there might have been a potential threat made against him in the past. _That_, or he just didn't care, _period,_ which I _highly_ doubt, even though I just met the guy a day ago. I mean, _I'm_ Eli's country's "precious cargo" and "one hope left;" if he had his _complete_ way, I'll bet he'd seal me within a _bubble_ or locked_ tower_ to make certain that I didn't wander anywhere until I became queen).

"You sure you do not wish us to evacuate this . . . young man from the premises, your highness?" the tallest guard guy holding onto Matt asked me, which made me want to _throw up _all over him in embarrassment and honestly growing sickness.

_'Your highness.' _Good _Lord_. That is just too _weird_ to hear myself being referred to as. And in front of others who are outside of the swayer loop?

"_Twilight Zone"_ scenario.

"'_Your highness?_' Will, _what_ --"

"-- Ha, ha! _Very_ funny, y-you guys! I-I'll just bring him into m-my bedroom!" I said quickly, practically tripping over my words, as _well_ as my feet, as I moved forward to seize my visibly confused friend away from the _finally_ backing off guys.

"I suggest you mind your manners while within my niece's presence, young man, lest you wish to face the _consequences_," I could hear Eli cryptically mutter from behind his warm cup, eyeballing the two of us as I dragged Matt down the hall and into my bedroom.

"Oh, my _God_, Matt. I am _so_ sorry about all of that," I apologized, closing the door technically in the female guard or whatever's face as she replaced herself in front of my door.

I turned around to look at Matt, who stared back at me with complete and utter obfuscation -- not to _mention_ a bit of _fear_.

And once more, I couldn't really blame him.

". . . Just . . . just give me a minute to . . . to swallow my _heart_ back down into my _chest_ here, as _well _as try not to _piss _my _pants_," he whispered, backing away from me before hunching over and putting his hands onto his knees.

Poor thing.

"Matt, I --" I started to say, before Matt had blindly raised a single finger up to me to signal that I stop speaking.

_Screw_ worrying about what Matt would think if he found out that I was a princess. I was _now_ worried of what he was thinking right at that moment. Was he thinking that I was too weird, or insane, or _whatever_ to be around anymore, all joking aside?

Or _worse_, was he now _afraid_ of me?

I did_ not _want to lose any of my friends over genealogy that I cannot do anything to change.

So, right when I was preparing to come clean about everything, Matt suddenly straightened his posture and smiled softly at me.

". . . Never a dull moment within the world of Will Vandom, huh?" he asked with an exhale, before moving to take a seat upon my used tissue-riddled bed. "So! Are you going to explain this one straight out, or make up _bogus_ excuses like you _always_ used to do, before_ finally_ telling me that you were a Guardian of the Veil?"

I couldn't help myself.

Maybe it was because of my sickness.

Maybe it was because I was feeling _so_ relieved that Matt obviously _wasn't_ afraid of me as I had thought.

_Whatever _the reason, I suddenly found myself_ instantly_ blubbering like a two year old and collapsed onto the bed beside him before I could stop myself.

"Aww . . . Hey. What's the matter, Kermit?" Matt asked in his concerned, older brother tone, and began to rub my back.

The obsessing _bum_ that I am, I, for a nanosecond, silently began to wish that it could have been _Caleb_ who'd come to visit me and later comfort me like this. But _then_ I had to swiftly remind myself that everything _but_ what I want will _always _happen for and _to_ me, and that I should just _deal_ already.

Sobbing uncontrollably, I looked up at Matt and blurted out,

"I . . . I was . . . was so _scared_ that . . . t-that you would _hate _me now or so . . . something!"

Matt laughed in surprise, patting my head softly as though I were a cat.

"Are you _serious_? It _was _surprising and unexpected, _sure_, but to _hate _you for having company who _are_ a tad _too _overprotective of you? _Forget_ about it!"

"Well, _yeah_, but --"

"-- No, _buts_! I _may_ rag on you from time to time, but you and I are _still_ thick as _thieves_! Just _breathe_, and relax, okay? Or else you'll _never_ get better, since, sorry to say, you look like _Hell_," Matt reassured before playfully insulting me and ruffling up my _already _messy hair.

I didn't bother to speak just yet, as I was still too relieved that Matt apparently didn't seem to think much of the bizarre debacle a few moments before. I suppose maybe he figured that if he could deal with being aware of the fact that things like magic and evil truly existing, then nothing else could or _would_ really phase him.

So I _hoped_, anyway, as I had _then_ decided that I was honestly about _three seconds_ away from telling him _everything_ that's happened in the last day and a half.

Taking another deep breath, wiping away my tears with the back of one hand as I took the fresh tissue that Matt had then handed to me with the other, I opened my mouth to confess, when he once again interrupted me (which was growing a bit _annoying_, I must admit).

"Now, _are_ you going to tell me why there's a 'party' going on within your living room and _I_ wasn't invited? Oh, and _why _werethey all practically _kissing_ your feet, what with all of the 'princess' and 'your highness' comments?"

I didn't even _try_ to make excuses, like Matt had already asked me not to do.

"Um . . . because . . . it's . . . what I _am_?" I answered meekly, wrinkling my nose in embarrassment.

Matt stared blankly at me for a few seconds before bursting out into raucous laughter.

_Thanks_.

"That . . . that's a g-_good_ one, Will! N-no, _really_! What's up?" Matt asked in between his guffawing. His face, by that time, was _super_ red and his eyes were _already_ tearing up. I'd feel upset by his slightly insensitive reaction, if I weren't so sure that_ I_ wouldn't react the same way if the shoe were on the other foot.

Waiting for Matt to calm down a bit, I rested a hand upon his shoulder and stared hard into his eyes to let him know that I was dead serious.

"Shaggy . . . I'm _serious_ . . . unfortunately . . ." I said quietly yet firmly, watching Matt's expression thankfully and gradually become sincere.

"W-wait . . . No. Come _on_ now, Will. I mean, even if that _was_ the case -- which I'm not saying that it _is_ -- _don't_ you think that it would've been something you'd tell me _ages_ ago? Or something that the _girls_ would have passed mention to?" he asked with a thoughtful frown.

I shook my head sadly.

". . . Well,_ yeah_, I-I _guess._ _I_ don't know, but . . . I didn't find out about it until _recently_ -- _yesterday_, to be more precise . . ."

Raising an eyebrow, Matt reclined back onto my bed and smiled softly.

"All right. _This _ought to be good. I rather _enjoy_ 'story time with Will,'" he joked momentarily, before gazing at me seriously once more.

So, with an exhale, I told him everything that had happened up until that moment.

By the time I was finished, I was completely winded, but felt _immensely_ better. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted.

Even _better_? Matt didn't really look so skeptic, or as though he wanted to leave. If _anything_, he almost looked perceptive.

". . . Well, no _wonder_ you got sick," he jested yet again, patting the empty spot next to him.

"Matt, this_ isn't_ funny," I said back to him, before moving over to sit properly next to him.

"Okay, _okay_. So I guess it _isn't_ so much in the _subjective_ sense. And I _also_ guess that you really _are_ telling the truth about this. I mean, not to say that you _couldn't_ dream up a story like this, it's just that the whole 'princess' angle would be something that _Cornelia_ or even _Mary Rosenberg_ would throw in -- not_ you_," Matt said with a smirk and loud yawn.

I had to admit. He had a point, now that I actually thought about it. I mean, this _would_ be something that _either _woman would concoct.

Well, no. If _Cornelia_ did it, it would be because that it was probably the truth. _Mary_ would always do _anything_ for the sole purpose of wanting to be the center of attention twenty-four-seven.

As I thought this, I heard Matt add while stretching,

"And _besides_ -- you already had enough on your plate as it _was_, what with saving mine and everyone _else's_ asses on a daily basis. I don't think that you'd _have_ enough time to juggle _aristocracy_ alongside perpetual _heroism_. And let's _not_ forget that you _hate_ having all eyes on you -- and being a princess pretty much ranks _up_ there at number one in _that_ regard."

"_Yeah_, no _kidding_," I replied in agreement, falling backwards onto the bed. "So does this mean that you honestly believe me?"

Matt playfully punched my arm in reply at this. I guess he found something amusing within my inquisition.

I could only stare anxiously at him a moment before he finally spoke.

"Well, _duh_! Of _course_ I believe you, Kermit!"

"Well, then why did you have to _hit _me for?" I asked heatedly, sitting up to properly rub my arm to lull the growing pain away.

Matt rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Because it was a _stupid question_, _that's_ why."

Oh. Okay, then. Thanks for clearing that up for me.

"No, it _wasn't_! When I _first_ told you the truth, you _didn't _believe me," I justifiably accused, hitting Matt back against his chest.

Matt smirked for yet the umpteenth time and lightly rubbed at where I had struck him.

"Not true. I thought it was _funny_. I _still _do. But I _also_ believe you, for the reasons I'd already stated. _Besides_, you _know_ whenever I don't believe something to be true. I'd have just said straight out that I don't believe it and then _leave_ or something, _I _don't know. _Point_ is, I _believe_ you, okay? _Last_ time: I -- be -- lieve you."

I could tell that Matt was starting to grow a bit irritated with me, because he felt compelled to annunciate every syllable to the last of his words, something he only did whenever, well, _pissed_.

So, deciding to drop it and move on, I cleared my throat and said,

"Oh. Well, thanks, then . . . I _guess_. But, any ideas on what I should do _now_?"

Exhaling thoughtfully, Matt puckered up his lips before responding.

"Doesn't sound like there's much you _can_ do. I mean, this isn't _exactly_ something you can just sweep underneath the _rug_ or keep hidden from the masses as you do for being a Guardian. And _hey_, what _about_ that? I don't really think that you will be able to keep _that_ secret for much longer if you'll be within the public eye 'round the clock from now on."

Groaning, I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my face with my hands. Maybe I should have engaged in such a stimulating conversation as this after I had gotten healthy again, because my head felt like it was going to _explode_ at that moment.

Sighing, I slowly pulled my hands away from my pasty-feeling face (_super_ gross, I know) and turned my head to look at Matt, who looked honestly concerned.

"I know, I _know_! _That_ realization had firmly sunk in about an_ hour_ ago, thanks. I have _no_ clue what to do about _any _of this, _period!_ _That's_ why . . . well, I was hoping that _you_ had any ideas?"

Insert-the-sound-of-a-game show-buzzer-sounding-off-for-the-wrong-choice-here. Because Matt suddenly burst out into another fit of giggles before stating,

"You _serious?_ I'm _still_ trying to adjust to the whole _Guardian _thing, let _alone_ this! But I can see that this is really bothering you, so . . ."

"Yeah?" I asked, lightly nudging his foot with mine to coax him to continue.

"_Best_ bet? Tell the _girls_, and ask _them_ for help and support, because it's --"

"-- Wait, _what_? No, _way_! They _can't_ know! It's bad enough that _you_ know, actually!"

This outburst did not bode well for young Matthew, because he abruptly jumped up from his spot on my bed and scowled down at me like a reprimanding father or annoying teacher or something.

"Will, come _on_! Be _logical_, here! The entire-freaking-_planet_ is going to know about this. You can't _possibly_ believe that you'll be able to keep it hidden for very long -- _and_ with Taranee's _übercreepy_ mind reading parlor trick? _Doomed_."

Biting down onto my lip, I sat up.

"I_ get_ it, all right? But . . . this _blows!_ And _since_ I'm stuck in this thing for now, I am going to follow through with it in _my_ way. It's the _least_ that this _sucky_ situation can do for me . . . and _you're_ going to help me," I added carefully as well as a bit darkly, while narrowing my eyes at him in a challenging manner.

Matt, in contrast, looked back at me in sheer astonishment, clearly not used to being at the tail end of my aggressive side.

"_Whoa! _You mean, _lie_ and _cover_ for you? _Forget_ it! You _know_ that I'm not big on deception, and -- _no!_ We're not even going to _continue_ this conversation!" he exclaimed, raising his strong hands up in dismissal before moving to stand by my window.

I felt a small smirk of my own forming for a change as I rose from the bed and approached Matt from behind. Why? Because I knew that what I planned on trapping him with in the next few seconds would be something that he would not be able to maneuver out of.

And so, folding my arms across my chest, I grinned at Matt's back as I said,

"If you _don't _help me until I'm ready t --"

"-- Yeah, and that's _when_? Probably _never_?" Matt interrupted me while continuing to look out of the window.

"Shut up, will you? _Anyway_, if you _don't_ help me, then I'll tell _Mary_ that you're in _love_ with her."

I watched Matt's back instantly tense up upon hearing this. My game plan was working.

"She _wouldn't_ believe you . . ." he muttered in disgust, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets.

I moved myself to stand in front of Matt and smiled generously up at him.

"She would if I acted all _annoyed_ or _hurt_ by it, so in _that_ way she'd feel '_victorious_' about the 'fact,'" I reasoned, watching Matt's face wrinkle in continued disdain.

Check, and mate.

". . . _Fine! _All_ right_? Fine. I _won't_ spill the beans about you and your '_royaldom_' or whatever, your _highness!_ But mark my words: the longer you lie about it to your so called best friends, the _bigger _the explosion's going to be once it finally _does_ spill out," he conceded with a small smile to let me know that he wasn't seriously upset with me, before bestowing that forewarning onto me.

And that was that.

Well, the last of Matt's lecture before he decided to leave the loft through the use of my fire escape, rather than risking the chance of getting _tackled_ again by the throng of muscle menin the living room.

But, _anyway_. There it is.

Matt now knows that I'm a princess. I'm actually now more _relieved _than mortified that he knows as a final and consistent emotion to this, because like I said, now I can vent about it to him in the future if need be.

But, _now_ I'm _also_ feeling pretty _nervous_. Why? Because Matt has a point. I mean, it's _super _stupid _and_ risky to keep this from the girls.

But it's _definitely_ not because I don't trust them.

Are you _kidding_ me? I've entrusted them with my _life_ on_ so _many different occasions that it's _ridiculous_.

But I _don't _want to deal with the onslaught of interrogations and _other_ things that I'm not yet ready to face.

_Pathetic_, maybe, but hey. Like I told Matt, if when and to _whom_ this whole princess thing comes out is about the only thing that I can firmly hold onto within my hands at the moment, then I'm _going _to hold on as tightly as I can, for as_ long _as I can.

**-- End of Chapter Thirteen  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Lemme alone. Semi-cliffhanger ending and bleh chapter, I know, butttttttttttttttt! Oh well. LoL All of it was just me taking crap out of my actual diary from a few years ago and putting it in here. Fuh-leh. LoL Anyway. This computer blows, so it makes me less motivated to sit here and type out the chapters I hand write and then edit, blah blah. Getting impatient for my laptop to finished getting fixed, so . . . yep. LoL But I'll try to get over this feeling and put out the next chapter soon, since it's written, etc.)**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Crazy Callisto. I love her. LoL Sorry. Watching Xena: Warrior Princess as I do this. Anyway, squee. We all liked the last chapter. You better have! It was "long" (not really LoL) and entertaining, AND Matt was actually an enjoyable charrie for me (and Seniya, apparently LoL). I don't hate him traditionally, but I was never "yay!" about him, either. Any of the guys, really, I don't care. LoL But yeah. Thanx to me and making his personality like my friend, Kyle (and the interaction b/w them just how Kyle usually treats me, the bastard LoL), it was a treat to "endure" his presence. LoL One note though: YES, this IS a Will/Caleb story. Well, a Will story, with Will/Caleb romance thrown into the mix, I mean. So, no worries: no WAY is Will getting back together with Matt, since their relationship seems to confuse some of you. It isn't a crime for ex-lovers to remain friends, no. It's rare, but it happens. LoL But, hey! Speaking of Will/Caleb! Enjoy this short but sweet imitation chapter dedicated to the pair.  
_

* * *

This chapter was created in December 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Thursday, November 2nd, 1:45 pm,**

**Vandom Loft, My Bedroom**

Oh, my God. OH, MY GOD! You will _never_ guess what just happened to me, and _not_ in the negative, "My life is over" sense, like I'd written in the last chapter. _This_ is actually _good_, as in, "Just when I think my day is going to continue to be bad, it does a _complete_ one-eighty and now I'm on _cloud nine_."

What am I talking about? Oh, I don't know. How about AN E-MAIL FROM CALEB, THE SUPER LOVE OF MY LIFE??????

Yeah. I am _not_ even kidding. I didn't even know that he knew my e-mail address, since he's never e-mailed me before.

Hell. I didn't even know that he knew how to _operate_ a computer, let _alone_ be able to send out e-mails.

But, hey. I'm not complaining!

Because Caleb "Virgilio" sent _me_, Will Vandom, an e-mail!

Let me backtrack a bit before revealing the e-mail's contents.

See, I figured that I had better check my e-mail before the girls got to their houses (since, by this time, the last period of the day is almost over) and started flooding my Inbox.

So, I signed into my account to do just that. And aside from junk mail, I was "safe" for the time being.

And _that's_ when I saw it.

I was about to sign out when I saw Caleb's e-mail to me, which I honestly was going to delete because I thought it was Spam mail or something. You know, because I obviously didn't recognize his e-mail address, and the subject title was a bit "odd."

Well, not odd by normal, general standards, I guess. Just odd in regards to _me_, since Caleb barely acknowledges my existence, as I've already stated in past entries, sadly.

What was the subject title, you ask? Here, I printed the entire e-mail out and pasted it in here as proof that this actually happened:

_Subject: To My Great Guardian . . .  
Date: Thurs, 2 Nov 2006 13:22:54  
From:"Virgilio, Caleb"__ rebel.with.a.cause at yoohoo . com_  
_To: "Vandom, Will" __froggie.lover at yoohoo . com_

_Hey, _

_You have no idea how worried I am about you. I mean, first the Halloween Ball, and now this. Someone as wonderful as you doesn't deserve to have things like this happen..._

_And I have to apologize that I haven't really been there for you. There's no excuse for it, because you mean a lot to me. I should tell you that everyday...but you know how I am. Expressing emotions other than anger or whatever isn't something I'm very good at..._

_But I just wanted to let you know now that I am here for you and always will be..._

_Much love,_

_Caleb_

Can you freaking believe that? Caleb wrote that to me! ME!

See the "bizarre" subject title? You know, because he wrote "My" instead of "The." He made it personal.

But, hell! This _entire _e-mail's "personal!"

And I mean, sure it isn't a declaration of love, but it's a start. All this time I thought he didn't notice me, when it turns out that he _has!_ And that _I'm _in his_ thoughts! _

Oh, and "much love?" _How_ sweet is _that?_ Again, it's not "I love you," but it still has the word "love" in the sign off.

No "Sincerely," "Cordially," or just his name and no closing, period.

"_Much love!_"

This one e-mail, this one act, has _instantly_ wiped the slate clean of all of the horrible drama that's been happening to me in the last few days.

Now, I actually feel like I can _handle_ being a princess, or at _least_ grin and bear it.

I am _so _framing this e-mail.

**-- End of Chapter Fourteen  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Yay. LoL Wasn't that cute beans? Now Will's happy and things are finally looking up. Go, Will! It's your birthday. LoL If I had a dime for every time that I reacted the way Will has whenever my crushes would pay attention to me or send me e-mails or IM's, I'd be a billionaire. LoL Anyway, I had to make the e-mail be "Yoohoo" instead of "Yahoo!," before some of you get bored and try to e-mail people who might actually have the e-mail accounts I've created -- even though this site messed it up and I had to re-write it for it to even show but yeah. I know I would have e-mailed them if I were reading this instead of writing it, cuz I'm stupid like that. LoL And now I feel "clever" for making Caleb's e-mail handle. I win a cookie. LoL Anyway, chapter fifteen might be a while. Dunno if it'll be long, but it'll be a while. Maybe. Cuz I plan on revealing more about the country of Marsily – that's made up by me, yes. Which sux to be me, cuz I hate politics and geography and all of that. So to actually create a believable structure . . . forget it. Now this feels like homework. LoL Anyway, stay tuned!)**


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _So . . . 'Sup? LoL X-mas is almost here!! Ahh!! I can't wait! Sux that Global Warming's making sure that there's zero snow, though. Ah well. Knowing my luck, it'll blizzard on my birthday next month. Anyway! I don't want any backtalk or any of that for this chapter! LoL I sounded like a strict teacher there, didn't I? Sorry! But seriously. Shh. If this chapter bores you, don't read it (although you won't know anything about Will's country), since it won't deal with character interaction just yet. That's for the following chapter, no worries. But it might be "wise" to read it, since a lot of you have been confused, asking and/or thinking that Marsily is a real country. Am I that good? LoL All shall be answered in a moment. _

_P.S. After you read it, if you wish to see what the flag looks like, go to my profile and access the link I've provided. Before you ask, yes, I've made it.  
_

* * *

This chapter was created in December 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Thursday, November 2nd, 2:24 pm,**

**Vandom Loft, My Bedroom**

You know what? It's been several minutes (well, _more_ than just "several minutes") since I read Caleb's glorious e-mail to me, and I'm _still_ in a good mood! _So_ much so that I got inspired by my _tremendously_ boring World History homework that Matt had brought over for me to do a little research on "my" country of Marsily.

Don't get me wrong. I still think that it sucks, this whole "Oh, did I forget to mention that you've won the genetic lottery and have inherited a _whole country_?" situation.

But like I said before, now that I finally know for _sure_ that Caleb notices me, and, _moreover_, apparently has feelings of some sort for me (That is _so _cool to be able to write!), then I feel that I can take on anything.

So, I printed everything out and pasted it into this entry. Needless to say, what I found out was . . . "interesting," to say the least:

_**Country**_

_Centralized Kingdom of Marsily_

_**Capital **_

_Hoaith_

_**Official languages **_

_English, French, Italian, Spanish_

_**Government**_

_Constitutional monarchy__**  
**_

**_- _****_King_**

_King Elisud Alaric DeMontaimont_******_  
_**

******_- _****_Queen_**

_Queen Adelaide "Ada" Thana Nontle DeMontaimont_**********_  
_**

******_- _****_Prime Minister _**

_Indira Fallon_

**_Area_**

**_- Total_**

_29, 840 km²_****

_12,200 sq mi_****

_**- Water (percentage)**_

_4.9_

**_Population_**

_3,709,623_

_**Currency**_

_Piece Ethereal_

_**History**_

_The proud and illustrious country of Marsily's early history was one marked by darkened days of oppression and tyranny. Dating back to the early 600s, the country had been consecutively ruled by the power-hungry monarchs of the house of Fandul. The most acidic and corrupt of rulers was Marsilian king, Kreios Fandul._  
_Driven by a tremendous desire to be king right away, Kreios, the youngest child to his father, Angra and mother, Charna, poisoned his father and older brother, Mainyu, in order to assume the throne, which he did at the young age of twelve._

_Kreios ruled with an iron fist for nineteen agonizing years, terrorizing all, both enemies and even allies alike, who might have gotten in his way, creating the country's former motto of "Either you are for your king, or you are for your king" to reflect his zero-tolerance mentality of any kind of would-be revolt._

_Although a cold and evil autocrat, Kreios was also still human, and so carried with him an overabundance of paranoia, a crippling emotion that caused him to sleep with one eye open and forty locks bolted to his bedroom door every night to keep potential enemies at bay. It was also one of the many contributing reasons why he never bothered to seek out a bride, for fear that she might attempt to murder him while he slept, or win the people over and persuade them to try to overthrow him. Besides that, Kreios also did not want to conceive an heir who would one day rule in his place, as it was his overwhelming desire to live forever._  
_After his near-death experience (with what can be constituted as the flu by today's standards) when he turned thirty, Kreios began to investigate ways to prolong his life to the point of immortality. His efforts continued to be vain, however, as he continued to age despite all of the various "potions" and other concoctions he would ingest. _

_It wasn't until after he met his cousin for the first time, eighteen-year-old Hosanna DeMontaimont, Countess of Marsily's neighboring and suffering province of Swaran, that Kreios felt that his search was over. He became obsessed with her, because her physical appearance was so flawless and porcelain-like. Kreios was convinced that Hosanna held the secret or key to eternal youth._

_Recognizing this as Kreios's one major "Achilles Heel," Hosanna and her mother and Kreios's biological aunt, Medea, devised a plan to give him what he wanted, at the same time giving his begrudged people what they greatly wanted -- liberation._

_Under her mother's secret and constructive instructions, Hosanna bargained with Kreios, telling him that she would only give him her "potion" (which was nothing more than a poisonous brew) if he agreed to take her as his wife. Blinded by his obsession, Kreios swiftly agreed, forgetting all about his desire never to be married._  
_As expected, the concoction instantly crippled Kreios, leaving him physically incapable to actively rule. (This act is what many later referred to as "Karmic retribution.") Hosanna, however, being his new wife and queen, was able to rule in his name, the only way that a female could during the country's beginning._

_Eventually, however, by the time that Kreios had passed away, a year later, the country's reconstruction had made great strides, all thanks to Hosanna. It was because of this, that Parliament had swiftly abolished the law that prohibited females within the royal family of Fanul-now-DeMontaimont to rule, as Hosanna was essentially the country's savior._

_Today, Marsily stands proverbially tall and proud as a profitable, diverse, flourishing and industrious country._

_**Geography**_

_Situated between Greece and Italy, Marsily consists of flourishing hilly and mountainous terrain, the most of which providing a natural protective barrier around the Marsilian palace, which is located in the country's capital of Hoaith. The weather is generally pleasant, with mild to cold winters, and generously hot summers, which is one of the many contributing factors to frequent tourism._

_**Government  
**  
Marsily's form of government is a constitutional monarchy, which is headed by the House of DeMontaimont._

_The seat of government is Hoaith, also the capital of Marsily._

_The country's parliament contains approximately one hundred and sixty-five seated members of both male and female members, with membership being acquired through the process of election. Parliament's female Prime Minister, Indira Fallon, presides over the body as well as its sessions that are held within the royal palace._

_**National Flag**_

_The Marsilian flag is a tricolor of royal purple and lilac, with the country's official emblem of a white dove in the center and four white thick stripes surrounding it on all sides. (It is understood that said stripes are symbolic to illustrate the country's core mentality, that all paths inevitably lead to the dove, which is a generic symbol of peace) The royal coat of arms features a barrage of white doves flying free from an iron cage. (It is also understood that this symbolizes the country's liberation from its formerly oppressed past)_

_**Motto**_

"_To conquer others is to have power. To conquer oneself is to know the way."_

_**Exports**_

_Rich in natural minerals, Marsily is one of the most salient exporters in various kinds of said minerals, such as oil, salt, and natural gas. Fishing is another big export for the country, with sardines, tuna, and lobsters as the chief catch._

_**Culture**_

_Marsily is a country that is extremely versatile when it comes to various cultural ventures. It is a site of eclectic forms of culture and entertainment (i.e. literature, art, music), serving to bring in large amounts of tourists of all ages._

_**Delicacies**_

_Marsily has a multitude of delicacies, one of which is its specialized corn soufflé. Another noted delicacy are chocolate covered orange peels._

That's all of the "dirt" I could dig up right now. Well, all that I _cared_ to dig up, anyway. For the most part, the country doesn't sound so bad -- to _visit_ or acknowledge, I mean.

_Ruling_ over it? Not so much.

And what about the morbid back-history to it? How wonderful for _me_ that my great-great-great-great-great-times-_infinity_ ancestor was a _super_ "old school" and insane _hard ass?_ Or that he married his freaking_ cousin?_ _First_ cousin, not third (although that too would be kinda gross, even though they wouldn't be tied together by blood in that case).

At least, though, they didn't have kids (I don't think?).

I visited other websites that went into further detail about the country's history, and one thing I will say for it is that that Hosanna chick and her mom were pretty smart. I mean, besides being the main reason that the country did its huge turnaround and is what it is today _because_ of them (which definitely speaks volumes for the whole "Girl power!" mentality, I might add), she had everything planned out meticulously in terms to taking out that crazy dude, Kreios.

That is, Hosanna's "legal knowledge," so to speak. Because, the other site I went to said that since Kreios never wanted to conceive an heir, the entire kingdom would have gone to Hosanna's family of DeMontaimont to rule, _anyhow_, after he died. But since her father wasn't that great of a monarch, _himself_, for Swaran, and he obviously would have been the new ruler, blah-blah-blah, _that's _why she and her mother secretly came up with that whole plan to marry Hosanna off to her cousin. (_Gross_, still)

Something about how, in _this_ way, _Hosanna _would have legal ties to the kingdom, so that after Kreios died, _she_ would be the one to have head rule over it and _not_ her father (something she obviously was confident would happen, despite the law that said females couldn't rule. I guess she knew that by the time she was through straightening out the former poor excuse for a country, everyone would be kissing her feet and _begging_ her to rule, after all).

So, that was basically a "killing two birds with one stone," or a "win-win situation," since the kingdom remained within the family, _anyway_, but also earned a "woman's touch," instead.

Props to that woman.

Of course, I could also _hate_ on Hosanna, since it's technically_ her _"fault" that I'm_ in_ this mess. The whole "first born rules" crap, regardless of gender, and the abolition of the only men being the Head Honchos rule once she rose to power.

But, then again, if _she_ could make up and get _rid_ of rules as she went, then so could_ I_, suppose.

Right?

I _think_. I'm pretty sure, I don't know. I hate politics and all of that, damn it.

Whatever. For _now_, I gotta focus on passing the twelve grade, which means I have to get back to finishing this boring-ass World History homework. (Although, I should _so_ get extra credit or something for doing this research on Marsily)

**-- End of Chapter Fifteen  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Fun times, yeah? I can't believe that my Muse loved me enough to give me all of this history and all that to write for the country all 1-2-3-ish. OR that it sounds relatively believable. Squee. LoL You know, considering I HATE history, politics, economics, and geography. So it pained me to do this. LoL But yeah. There it is. Marsily's history. I know the history IS a bit . . . perverse, but honestly? Most history crap you read generally are pretty backwards. So I just drew inspiration on that and went with it. LoL But yeah. YES, it's a made up country. YES, I'm the one who made it up, throwing in personal interests and/or favorites here and there – obviously mainly in the social aspect to the country, like its motto, official languages, culture, and delicacies. Ever try chocolate covered orange peels or corn soufflé? Delish! Well, the way my mommy makes it, anyway. LoL Anyway, no more confusion about whether or not Marsily's a real country, yes? Also, yes, that the country's motto is is from Xena: Warrior Princess, in that one episode, "The Debt," that Lao Ma teaches to Xena, etc. I just really always liked it, so used it. LoL And yes, for those who are geography buffs or whatever, Marsily pretty much replaced Albania's positioning. NO, this wasn't disrespect to Albanians, so don't jump on me for that. I just wanted to place Marsily near two of the few countries that are faves of mine, a.k.a. Italy and Greece. Which, by the by, is where Marsily's name comes from. As I told my pal, Gina, Italy and the city of Marseille, France, had "relations" and had Marsily. LoL Well, I said that about the capital of "Hoaith," because two of my fave personal concepts to believe in, "hope" and "faith," had "relations," themselves, and had "Hoaith." LoL Anyway, back to the country's name. The "ily's" from Italy, even though there's no "i," I know. And the "Mars" is from Marseille. I love Italy, and my own personal royal genealogy apparently hails from Marseille or whatever, way back in the day, according to my 'rents – which is where Will's "DeMontaimont" name comes from, so yeah. I loaned it to her. LoL So yeah, to answer some who asked, that's what I meant about this story kinda/sorta being a "true story" on the royal aspect and drawing Will's emotions and disaster "episodes" from my life, etc. So remember, when you laugh at Will in this story, you're basically laughing at me. LoL)**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Guess who's back? Back again? Ellie's back; tell some men. LoL Anyway! Happy New Year, and all that jazz! Hope your respected holidays were super-duper, and the new year's treating you grandly. Lookit! This is the first update I've made in 2007. Yay! And squee! You all likie-likie chapter fifteen! AND the country of Marsily. I plan on moving to Italy, but if this country existed, I might move there instead. LoL And with Will ruling? Kick arse. LoL You guys check out the flag? Spiffy beans, n'est pas? Anyway! 108 reviews. Sweetness. : Dances : AND it's earned me one more addition to my growing "fan base." That is, now I'm up to 56 peeps who've added me to their faves list, and 39 who've added me to their author alert list. Wooooooooooo! LoL Anyway, um . . . enjoy this one?_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in December 2006.

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Thursday, November 2nd, 5:17 pm,**

**Vandom Loft, My Bedroom**

_Ai yai yai! _Talk about _ambush!_ I am sick! I don't _need_ this kind of abuse!

Okay, okay. Drama, much, I know. And it wasn't even really "_abuse_," per say.

Just an "Ambush-of-Interrogation Bullet," one that I _narrowly_ missed, I might add (well, in terms of spilling the beans on what's been going on with me lately).

See, I finally managed to take another, _longer_ nap after I did my little dive into my mom's family history and all that, but _before_ I also managed to finish up a good portion of my homework (which is good for _me_, since the day's almost over, and although I don't feel that much better and don't want to go back to school, I _also_ don't want to stay_ home_ again, either).

And then, when I woke up around four-thirty or so, I saw that I had an Inbox _full_ of e-mails from the girls.

_Most_ of them were sent from Cornelia's account, with the girls taking turns with their concerned _"Where are you?"_'s and/or _"How are you? Call me!!"_'s. And _since_ said e-mails were all the same to that effect, I just responded to only one of them, saying that I was fine for the most part, and that I would most likely see the girls in school tomorrow.

And _that's_ when I get the instant message from Cornelia, and the game of "Twenty Questions" began (with, yet again, after-effect commentary thrown in by me at the tail end of the instant messages in parentheses, and not to be confused with some of comments thrown in parentheses by the girls as each instant message occurred):

**IceQueen:** well, look who it is (it's me, irma, hijacking corny's true-to-form screen name)!

**HeartsDesire:** LoL Hey, Irma. Yes, it's me. Don't worry anymore, okay? I'm getting better; just a little cold

(As _well _as a _major_ pain in my side, called "Princess Rejectitis," I also wanted to add in my reply.)

**IceQueen:** yeah, so I hear! hay lin & i ran into matt the gas station on our way over 2 cornelia's after school, & he looked pretty shaken up & bothered.

**HeartsDesire: **He did? I just saw him, though, and he seemed fine to _me_.

(Yeah, up until I threatened to _blackmail_ him by telling stupid Mary that Matt wants her for his_ bride _or something, anyway.)

**IceQueen:** again, so I hear. about him going 2 see u, I mean. he said that it'd probably be best that we let u rest & not storm the loft 2 see u -- or rescue u from boredom. which is why we've all gathered caleb's wife's house 2 communicate with u via comp-a-domp instead.

(For _some_ reason, most likely out of boredom and eccentricity, that's Irma's way of referring to the computer: "comp-a-domp." It's relatively catchy and funny, though, enough to have a good amount of people at school calling the device the very same name. See what power behind the microphone can do for a person?

_Anyway,_ did Irma _also_ have to write that last part? _"Caleb's wife."_ That made me feel even _more_ sick to my stomach . . .)

**IceQueen:** NE way, in terms of why he was looking so "backwards," he just said it was b-cuz he had the misfortune of seeing that bitch, scary-mary on his way 2 the gas station, & it ruined his day as well as good mood. can't say that I blame him, though. that near-death encounter with medusa would ruin NE 1's freaking _psyche_, let _alone_ good day & mood. what a fugly _psycho_.

(Thank you, Matt, for having my back, even though I've put you into a corner. And thank _you_, Irma, for making me have a good and honest laugh I haven't had in a while.)

**HeartsDesire:** HeHe I'll _bet_. So anyway, what's the verdict?

**IceQueen:** what, u mean about if everyone's still obsessing over ur mishap on halloween. i should _so_ beat eddie into a _coma_ for that, btw. i mean, he should have had that _death trap_ of stairs carpetedor _least_ not _waxed_ so profuselyjerk...

(I'm sure that Irma would probably secretly prefer to _make out_ with Eddie into _exhaustion_ instead. But I'll just wait until she's ready to _admit_ and own up to her obvious attraction to him before I start to tease her about it.)

**IceQueen:** it's died down a bit, the gossip, thanx 2 my semi-kinda-not-really damage control about it, through the use of my radio show. but the fed & hound dog, a.k.a. P-kerins, kinda got on my case about that 2-day. said that the "use of school owned equipment 4 personal gain or use is not permitted." know what i said 2 that?_ totally_ dropped a verbal bomb in his face with perfect timing and precision. lol & so _now_, i'm stuck with after school detention tomorrow. _whatev_. 4 _once_, i wasn't _trying_ 2 be "blatantly disrespectful," as kerins loves 2 rag on me about. I had_ just_ finished downing a _Dr. Piper_ b4 he got in my face!

(Gotta love that girl, seriously. Taking one for the team like that, even though it wasn't her fault that I had fallen, _or_ that she couldn't control her gas, apparently.)

**IceQueen: **but ne way, enough about me & my bodily functions & misdemeanors. the "fall seen 'round the world" is unfortunately still a relatively "hot topic" 2 discuss in the cafeteria or during free period. Well, more like "_lukewarm_," really. But u _know_ that Mary is probably doing everything that she _can_ just short of _murder_ 2 keep it going & alive & well, though. don't worry, willie, cuz we've got ur back!

**HeartsDesire:** LoL Thanks. It really _does_ mean a lot, but I've actually got other, more important things to deal with now . . .

(Oops. There goes my durn, innate desire to gush to the girls about everything that's happened.)

**IceQueen:** Whoa, wait. _What_, now? I _so_ knew it!! There _is _something going on with you! Oh, and this is Cornelia now, by the way, reclaiming what's _rightfully_ mine.

(Great. _Gossip girl_, at your service. You can't keep _anything_ from Cornelia for very long, and since I'm trying my_ very_ best to do just_ that_, it will take all the strength I have to do so.)

**HeartsDesire:** Excuse me?

**IceQueen:** Don't _"excuse me,"_ Will. I'm sorry if you're on the defensive now, but it's true. I mean, yeah, what happened to you at Eddie's party really sucks, and I _did_ try to soften the blow by using my telekinetic abilities to ensure your safe landing, but I don't know why you were just _standing_ there like a statue in the _first _place. You probably wore shoes that were too _big_, and tripped_ because_ of that.

(Leave it to _Cornelia _to insert _berating_ insults to her imitation apology. Shouldn't have been surprised by that, but she could have at _least_ _humored_ me, anyway, by apologizing _sans_ reprimanding.)

**HeartsDesire:** Gee, _thanks_. You're just upset that we had on the same outfit.

**IceQueen:**_Hardly_. For _one_ thing, you left _immediately_ after your spill. So it's not like we'd have had the chance to "suffer" as "duplicates" for very long, _anyhow._ Plus, if it had been _me_ that had fallen, I would have played it off as an "on purpose" kind of stunt. Something for "Trick-or-Treat" to match the occasion. You've _got _to learn to be more _resilient_ and prepared for _everything_, Will, _seriously_.

**HeartsDesire: **I'll be sure to take _avid notes_, Miss _Life Coach._ --

**IceQueen:**_ Right._ And _besides_, I had already said that you _did_ look a bit "awkward" in it.

(Why'd she put quotes around the word, awkward? What does that even _mean?_ Was I only _imitation_ awkward? Like a step below it, or something? Sigh. Sometimes I wonder about that girl, and how we're still friends . . .)

**HeartsDesire: **Is this a comforting or _roasting_ IM? Because I'm _seriously_ three seconds away from signing off.

**IceQueen: **_Whatever_, okay? You _know_ that we're all just _concerned_ about you.

**HeartsDesire:** Yeah. Could've fooled _me_. If you're done with me, though, I'm gonna go and try to get something to eat and finish up my homework.

**IceQueen:** Hey. I'm _sorry_, okay? I'm sorry. You _know_ that I tell it like it is. What I _just_ wanted to get at was

**HeartsDesire:** Hello?

(A massive long pause after this, a bit, folks.)

**IceQueen:** SORRY, WILL. CORNELIA'S JUST A BIT ON EDGE CUZ OF THE RESULTS OF HER SKATING COMPETITION, AND HOW SHE CAME IN THIRD DURING PRE-PRELIMINARIES OR WHATEVER. HAY LIN, HERE. IRMA'S BUSY SCOLDING HER NOW, SO DON'T WORRY.

**HeartsDesire:** Hey, Hay Lin. Thanx, but I'm _used _to Cornelia's grouchiness.

**IceQueen: **STILL. THAT'S NOT FAIR CUZ YOU'RE SICK. I REALLY HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER, AND IN TIME FOR YOUR MEET! YOU'RE GONNA WIN FIRST, I KNOW IT!

(Good ol' Hay Lin. She always knows how to look on the bright side of things. Cheers you right up.)

**HeartsDesire:** Thanks, Hay Lin. I really appreciate it. Like I said, though, I'll probably be back in school tomorrow, good as new.

("New" would _definitely_ be an understatement in _this _case . . .)

**IceQueen:** THAT'S GOOD! . . . BUT . . .

**HeartsDesire:** "But . . ."?

**IceQueen:** WELL . . . EVEN THOUGH CORNELIA **WAS** A BIT ROUGH WITH HER CONCERNS, IT'S ACTUALLY SOMETHING WE'VE **ALL** BEEN WONDERING AND WORRYING ABOUT FOR A WHILE . . .

**HeartsDesire:** What? How so?

**IceQueen:** I'M NOT CORNERING YOU, WILL. IT'S JUST THAT, FOR WEEKS -- NO, **MONTHS** NOW, ACTUALLY, YOU'VE KIND OF NOT BEEN YOURSELF. THAT IS, YOU'VE BEEN . . . DISTANT AND LESS INCLINED TO SHARE YOUR FEELINGS . . . AND HANGING OUT, YOU'VE SORT OF BEEN **MORE** INCLINED TO **DECLINE**. (HEY, I JUST RHYMED. HEHE OH . . . SORRY, WILL. BAD TIMING FOR HUMOR.)

**HeartsDesire:** Forget about it, Hay. Anyway, that's not true. I still hang with you guys.

**IceQueen:** NO. NOT REALLY, NO. WE'VE ALL NOTICED, LIKE I SAID.

(I've _realized _that they all have, and I _have_ been a bit "different," but it's because I _also _have been trying to deal with keeping my feelings for Caleb under control and under wraps. And hanging out with _one_ of the girls usually means hanging out with _all_ of the girls . . . which _also_ means hanging out with _Caleb_ most of the time, since Cornelia_ insists_ on bringing him along _with_ her . . . So, lately I just find myself staying away . . .)

**IceQueen:** AND **TARANEE'S** YOUR "SUPER" BEST FRIEND OF US ALL, AND EVEN **SHE** SAYS THAT SHE'S PRETTY MUCH IN THE DARK ABOUT WHAT'S GOING ON INSIDE OF YOUR HEAD LATELY -- AND **SHE'S** THE PSYCHIC ONE! HEHE

**IceQueen:** SERIOUSLY, THOUGH: ARE YOU **SURE** NOTHING'S WRONG?

**HeartsDesire:** Nothing's wrong, no. Nothing _major_, no.

**IceQueen:** YOU **SURE**? CUZ YOU **DID** SAY THAT YOU HAD "MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT" OR SOMETHING BEFORE . . .

**HeartsDesire:** Oh, that? No . . . I just have some long lost uncle who's suddenly showed up, wanting to make amends or whatever for seventeen years of absence and neglect. So it's just been . . . bizarre around here.

(That wasn't a _total_ lie, right? So, at _least_ I've now told the girls the surface stuff . . . the "B-story," if you will.)

**IceQueen:** OH. WELL, YEAH, I GUESS THAT **WOULD** BE PRETTY AWKWARD . . . JUST . . . YOU KNOW, WE'RE HERE, O.K.? FOR WHATEVER. AFTER ALL, WE **ARE** "W.I.T.C.H." WE CAN HANDLE **ANYTHING**, SO LONG AS WE'RE ALWAYS HONEST AND STICK TOGETHER.

(Talk about _guilt-tripping_.)

**HeartsDesire:** Yeah . . . I agree. Anyway, I better go now, seriously. Gotta take the meds and all that.

**IceQueen:** OH. O.K. THEN! WELL, IF YOU NEED US, WE'LL ALL STILL BE HERE AT CORNELIA'S FOR ANOTHER HOUR OR SO, TO FINISH UP OUR HOMEWORK. SO JUST CALL OR IM OR E-MAIL.

OH! AND TARANEE SAYS "HI! AND 'BYE!", AND SO DOES IRMA AND YES, CORNELIA.

**HeartsDesire:** Thanx. 'Bye, and see you tomorrow.

**HeartsDesire has signed off.**

So, _now_, I feel guilty all _over _again.

Did Hay Lin_ have_ to throw in that whole W.I.T.C.H. angle crap?

This whole thing is getting so _complicated! _And it's only _just_ begun . . .

Good luck for _me_ for trying to deal with it all tomorrow, being that I am a _horrible_ liar . . . Or, am I _really,_ anymore? I mean, I pulled it off just _now_, didn't I?

But that's the computer, so never mind.

I am so _screwed_ . . .

**-- End of Chapter Sixteen  
**

* * *

**(A.N. And there it is. Glorious update, n'est pas? Not REALLY, but it's an update, AND interaction with all of the girls, finally. So shut up. LoL I just killed two birds with one stone with this chapter, and there's nothing you can do about it. Mwa ha ha. Sorry. Had some chocolate and lemonade, so now I'm gone. LoL Oh! And plus! My birthday's coming up!!! Yay!! January 15th!! Let us all mark the calendar to remember, and rejoice when it comes!! Squee. LoL The big 2-3. Wow. I'm old. LoL Oh yeah, and don't be all "why'd you write in all caps, for?" My one good pal, Julia, always writes in caps while online, and she's the outgoing, cooky type. And so is Hay Lin, so I just picture her writing in caps all the time while online, no matter what. And then I have a sarcastic, crazy friend, Josh, who's like Irma and writes the way I made her write: the lazy way. LoL And that whole reason why she got detention, just for burping accidentally? That happened to me back in middle school, like I did it on purpose. Whatever. Stupid teacher. LoL And yes, I know it's "Dr. Pepper," not Piper. I did that on purpose so's I don't get "sued" or whatever. LoL BASICALLY, everything Irma said like "comp-a-domp" was all me really, since she's a lot like me anyways. LoL Oh, and then, of course, I made Cornelia write all "proper" and how we all honestly should, anyhow, because that's just how she strikes me as writing while IM'ing and crap. Whatever. LoL And yes, I made up the girls' screen names to match their interests and stuff. IceQueen for Corny cuz of her ice skating – although, I also view it as ice queen, coldness, as Irma pointed out. Sorry. I don't like her. LoL And HeartsDesire for Will cuz of the Heart of Candracar and its desire to promote peace and defense, etc. And also WILL'S heart's desire to have Caleb, blah blah.)**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Sweet. You all liked the last chapter. Well, all but one of you. To that person, and anyone else in the future who decides to nitpick, please go to my profile and read the note that's in bold. Because I am getting just a littttttttle bit tired of nitpickers who act as though I write my stories lik e dis all duh tyme , and ca n't do edtng or right pro prly. Like I said before, I don't twist your freaking arm to read this or any other story I post. That's on you. And if you don't like what's written, that's also on you. If you've read my other stories, I've never bothered to engage in writing IM or text-message posts before now, and EVEN now, it's only been maybe three out of the seventeen chapters that's up for this story. Like I said, skip them if it bugs you. So right. Please stop acting as though I'm the worst writer (or story-poster, rather) on here, because I'm not. At least in terms of posting at that VERY least, decent posts. So yeah. That's on you, like I said, to read something you don't like. And yeah, I know I sound whiny here, but it's ridiculous.  
_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in January 2007. (Lookit. The first "written/created in '07" post LoL Yay!)

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Friday, November 3rd, 7:15 am,**

**En route to Sheffield High, in the back of Eli's Stretch Limo**

Yes, you read that right. I am on my way to freaking school, in the back of some _massively_ long stretch-freaking _limo_.

Why? Why _else?_

"You could very well continue to take the bus to your various social gatherings or so-called responsibilities, Wilhelmina. However, for one who seems to be so focused upon _not _drawing unwanted attention to oneself, you would be doing just _that_ if you tried to get _onto _the bus, or in a _God_-awful_ cab_, even, with your bodyguards shadowing you at the same time," Eli says to me this morning when I woke up for school and had the glorious misfortune to see him sitting there, waiting for me _yet _again.

I should have definitely seen it coming. Or, at _least_ have suspected something.

I mean, for _one_ thing, Eli was surrounded by bodyguards yesterday, right? _And_ he's technically a famous person, and famous people _need_ protection.

_Plus_, that one dark haired female guard lady was posted outside of my door instead of posted . . . well, in front of or behind _Eli_. And, I _guess_ that _I'm_ also "famous" now, myself, so . . .

_Still!_ As logical or practical or _whatever as _this may be, it still sucks, _grande-size_.

I didn't _want _stupid "Protectors" by my side twenty-four-seven from now on.

I _still _don't.

That's _my_ job, anyway, right? For you-know-what that I can't say -- er, _write_ right now, since the two of them are right here across from me. _Sure_, it's across from me, but with those shades on (even though we're _inside _and the weather is_ cloudy _today), you never can be too careful.

I guess it's a _bodyguard_ thing, to keep them on (as _well_ as something the two of them would _not_ eighty-six either, I might add, after I spent nearly half an hour this morning arguing -- or "negotiating," as Eli called it -- with both Eli _and_ my mother on how I do not want "security").

_Anyway_, here's how it went down, in a nutshell:

Me: (After waking up a bit late at six o'clock instead of the usual five, due to my still-kinda-remaining sickness, and seeing the kitchen _full _of people for a change -- since, by this time it's usually just me and maybe Mom if she's running late for work) . . . Did I _miss_ something, here? Is this _another_ unwanted intervention for the life that is no longer _mine?_

Eli: (Rises from his seat at the kitchen table next to Mom, with the both of them sipping on a hot beverage and surrounded by guards, like yesterday -- well, Eli was, anyway. Mom, it turns out, was out at the market when Matt had come over and all that yesterday) Ah! Princess Wilhelmina! We were not certain whether or not you would awaken for class this morning, but as I had said to your mother, I did not want to prolong this news any longer and --

Mom: (Rudely -- not in my opinion, honestly, anyway -- places her hand over Eli's mouth and gives me this exasperated, guilty look) I'm sorry, honey. For _all_ of this, and that you have to wake up to such a scene . . . I mean, are you _sure_ that you want to go back to class today? It _is_ Friday, and you_ did_ tell me last night that you still weren't feeling so great, so --

Me: (Rolls eyes and moves to grab a bottled water from out of the fridge, since I'm running too late to eat breakfast) -- _Whatever_, Mom. I _also_ told you that I wasn't going to stay here within this crazy _circus _for another day. If I feel worse, I'll go to the nurse's office or something. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go catch the bus before it's too late.

Mom: (Takes her hand off of Eli's scowling visage and rushes after me, with another, blonde female guard swiftly trailing after her) W-_wait_, Will! That's just _it!_ Um . . . you _won't_ catch the bus today . . . Or, _ever_, actually, according to your uncle.

It gets more annoying after this, but the gist of it was that from now on, I am barred, so to speak, from taking any kind of public transportation, and will always take one of Eli's retarded limos instead. And, if I _do_ happen to manage to snag a cab or something like that, I must be accompanied by my brand-spanking new bodyguards.

Why? Because I'm a _princess_, and since I'm intended to rule and all that crap, "any sort of _loon_ may want to disrupt that by kidnapping or _severing _your mortal coil," explained Eli.

"Severing (my) mortal coil?" God, _can't _this guy ever just speak _lazy_ English, like the _rest_ of us do?

The plus side, though, is that my mom, at least, got sucked into this as _well_.

"As the mother of the potential new queen, and is still a princess of Marsily -- _despite_ her having _abdicated_ -- Almira has _also _been appointed _long_ overdue bodyguards to ensure _her_ safekeeping, as well. The_ last_ thing I need to_ fret_ over is hearing _you_ fret over your _mother's_ kidnapping in your stead," Eli said to me a bit _too_ nonchalantly.

I mean, _Jesus_. That's his _sister_, and he says that he doesn't want to "fret over it?"

_Boy_, is _he_ really pissed off at my mom.

But, yeah. I couldn't help but to laugh upon hearing this, though, because like I said, now _Mom_ gets to suffer with me a bit. Pay back's a_ bitch_, ain't it? _And_, as icing on the cake, she is not at _all_ happy about it, either.

Insert generous, vindicated grin here.

"But your uncle _does _have a point, which is the _only_ reason why I've agreed to allow it. But _one_, not the _three_ he'd originally planned to have put me under their watch. After _all_, as you pointed out for yet the _umpteenth_ time, Elisud, I _have_ abdicated my right to throne, so I _don't _need the ample protection, right? But it's _still_ going to be like I was living within the _palace_ all over again . . ." she mumbled into her coffee mug after sitting back down. (I guess she'd decided to take another day off from work, since she was moving around the loft in "slow motion," versus the _frantic_ motions she does every morning.)

_Ugh_. This entry is so jumbled and not really making any sense. I keep jumping from one point to another, and doing tangents, _overtime_.

But here's the bodyguard scorecard:

1. Eli gets his four bodyguards, all male, to watch and follow him wherever he goes, blah blah. As king, and one on "vacation," so to speak, he said that he _needs_ four so that there is ample "backup," in case one of them "falls in the line of duty." (Does this guy honestly _listen _to himself whenever he speaks so frivolously of death and all that? _Cripes_. I _highly_ doubt that he's even _seen_ misery or death before, as he's safe and secure within his lavish palace. As a Guardian, _I've_ seen such things practically _everyday_, and it is not at _all_ something to be spoken of so lightly . . .)

2. Mom gets just the one, the lucky woman, for reasons already stated.

3. Yours truly gets two, one male (whose name is . . . oh, right. Ernest. It's not funny, I know, but I always giggle whenever I hear this name, because it makes me think of that one goofy guy character in all of those series of movies he'd starred in.), who doesn't speak much and kind of creeps me out, to be honest. And with him in all of his six foot, five inches, bald and rippling muscle glory, he's _definitely_ not a force to be reckoned with. So I don't really think that anyone _will _try to mess with me, so long as_ Ernest _isaround. (Plus, his piercing ice blue eyes scare the _piss_ out of me more than anything else, because whenever he stares at me without the shades on -- which _thankfully_ hasn't been a lot so far -- I feel like he can melt my face off or something).

Next on the agenda is the lesser of the two evils, I suppose (well, appearance wise). My _female_ guard, and the same one who was outside of my door yesterday. Name's Sprita. I am not even kidding, no. Sprita. Kind of catchy, but _definitely_ out there. _She's_ more outgoing than Ernest thus far, and actually more than the other bodyguards I've met in the last two days. She doesn't even really fit the bill for a guard, actually, what with her frail physique (not like Mom's chickie-guard, who is super tall for a woman and looks capable of handling herself and potential attackers) and "out there" personality (well, from what I could gather in the first two minutes of our speaking, on our way down to the limo this morning). I guess she could sense what I was thinking, because Sprita said that what she lacks in "super bulky muscles like Ernie, here, I make up for with my ten years of gymnastics as well as martial arts -- oh, and my relatively tall height of five foot, seven inches. So do not worry, your highness, because Ernest and I come highly recommended in terms of effectively protecting our parcels." She called me a "parcel." _Ridiculous_. But I guess that's bodyguard code or whatever.

_Anyway_, I'm under Sprita's watch as well, for mainly whenever I have to do things of the "female orientation," Eli said (and why, again, Mom got stuck with a female, as well). In _other _words, for when I have to use the bathroom, and _obviously_ Ernest cannot go into the ladies' room. (Like I'd _want _him to! _Gross!_ I don't even want _Sprita_ too, either, but it's for in case someone tries to _jump_ me while I'm . . . _you_ know. _Gross_, again.) I _guess_ it's a smart, or tactful move on Eli's part to implement, but I can already tell you that it's going to get _worse_ before it gets better, and _annoying_ very_ fast_ to have not just Sprita but _both_ Sprita _and_ Ernest shadowing me everywhere I go.

_Anyhow_, back to that "negotiating" thing I was talking about. Since both Eli _and_ Mom were insisting upon this whole thing like I'd said, I decided to strike a compromise. Well, not _really_ a compromise. Just that Sprita and Ernest ditch their all black, "_Yeah_, I'm guarding you" obvious attire when out in public with me, and wear something more . . . "incognito."

I guess wearing black leather jackets with white shirts underneath , as well as black jeans is the best I'm going to get out of these two, because that's what they're now both wearing.

Oh, but still with the shades on.

I'll admit that they _do_ both look a little bit . . . "cooler" and less stuffy, but they _also_ now look like hardcore _bar-bikers_ or something.

But, hey. That's a step up, right? At least _now_, maybe the kids at school will think I'm part of some bad-ass, _drug _gang and will leave me alone.

Hey, I can hope, right?

**-- End of Chapter Seventeen  
**

* * *

**(A.N. I like the name Sprita. It's cute, and fits her personality. So does Ernest's name for HIS personality, which we'll all see later on. But yeah, sorry if this chapter really WAS a bit jumbled and "Guh?" as I'd written Will writing, but I unfortunately have a cold now like she still does, and am not able to think as clearly as normal. Bleh. Reviewness! LoL)**


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _You're right, Katie: I wouldn't complain about taking a limo, either. I LOVE freaking limos. LoL But since I also hate unwanted attention, I'd probably, by the same token, be uncomfortable, too. Then again, that was back in high school, like my Freshie year I'd have felt that way. NOW, however, I'd probably flaunt it and be like "Yeah, that's right! You KNOW you wanna ride in my limo" LoL Anyway, babbling now so read on-ness._

_**HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEEEEE!!**_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in January 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Friday, November 3rd, Homeroom**

Oooh, _boy_, is this awkward.

I'd gotten stares before, right? But, _you _know, for . . . well, you _know_.

Incredibly, though? I'd _prefer _those stares versus the ones I've been getting since I got to school. Because, _these _stares are so . . . intense. (I've written "stares" a lot in only twenty-five seconds. Note to self: buy a bigger and better thesaurus.)

Can't say that I blame everyone. I mean, it isn't exactly everyday that you see a fellow student walking around with one _giant powerhouse_ of a man, and an apparent _ninja-in-training_ of a woman.

Regardless, I had had a thought inside of the parking lot, that I hadn't realized or thought of when I'd written my last entry. Sheffield High is very, if you please, _anal_ about security, as well as about visitors of the non-student or faculty variety.

So, after the initial shock and irritation about this had worn off (well, for _now_, anyway), I started to laugh inside because I knew that there was _no_ way that Ernest and Sprita would make it inside. Well, maybe _Sprita_, because _she_ at least looks like she's between the ages of nineteen to twenty-three to me, but with her "baby face" sorta, she could pass for sixteen or seventeen years old.

_Ernest_, though? Forget it. They'd probably think that he's a stalker or pedophile.

_Anyway_, my point is that I figured I'd be able to ditch them, and if they wanted or _had _to stay, they would have to do so around the _perimeter_ or whatever.

So, trying to ignore the gawking, pointing, and feverish whispers I was beginning to get from students piling onto campus, I _power walked _my way into the building, and said to Sprita and Ernest under my breath, "See you guys later. Heh heh _heh_ . . ."

Yes, I actually cackled like that.

Hey, I was ecstatic that Eli, while he apparently prefers to believe that he is _omniscient_ or whatever, _had_ to be clueless about my school. He _had_ to be, because from the sound of things, this was his first time that he has ever visited Heatherfield.

So, don't fault me for feeling great for a few seconds, knowing that my estranged uncle was a foreigner in this area as well as school district, and so _therefore _didn't know a thing or two about a thing or two.

Come on now, Will: Try again. You should _know_ better by now!

I'm beginning to see where I get my craftiness in addition to sneakiness at times from, the longer I unfortunately interact with Eli, because the dude just _sat _there at the breakfast table as though he didn't know his left from his right.

And yet, despite that, as soon as she saw me, the school's Hall Monitor, Doris, promptly approached me with her usual, serious expression and says gruffly,

". . . Principal Brooks would like to see you, young lady."

You'll have to forgive me, because despite the obvious and blatant nature of this growing situation, in my mind I was then thinking, _Wonderful. Now I'm gonna get detention, probably, just because Irma stuck up for me yesterday. Brooks probably thinks I put her up to it or something._

Hey. I'm not really a morning person, okay? My brain doesn't usually start to work properly until after eight . . . _or_ nine . . . or _ten_. Which is why it's a good thing that I don't have math class until the _end_ of the day this year, unlike _freshman_ year, when I had it_ first_ period.

_Yikes_.

_Anyway_, since I was so focused on this annoyed (and bogus) train of thought, I didn't bother to look and enjoy the sight of Sprita and Ernest being told to leave the premises, since they do not have a visitor's badge visibly on them.

I was too busy trying to jump start my brain to quickly think of excuses and rehearsed lines to feed to Brooks once I got into his office. (Since Irma practically lives inside of the Principal's office, she's kindly bestowed upon me and the other girls a few useful things to say to apparently slow Brooks, that he "buys every time, _despite _the fact that he sees me _basically_ every week for _one_ thing or another, and I say _basically _the same _things _-- _regardless _of the situation," she told us.

For the _life _of us, we can't understand how or why Brooks chose to become a _principal_ of all things, when it's so obvious that it's not exactly his calling.)

After I'd finally focused on one exculpation to give, and allowed Doris to bus me into Brook's empty and relatively unfamiliar office (not really because I'm some "Goody-two shoes," but more so because he'd remodeled it over the summer, according to Irma and Hay Lin), I was then ready to "dazzle" the man out of punishing me for something that technically wasn't even my fault.

But, instead of having that usual, imitation stern look on his face (I say imitation, because it looks more like a worried, confused or contemplative expression more than anything else), Principal Brooks was beaming ear to ear as soon as I approached him.

To tell the truth, I found _that _act more suspicious and creepy than I do his not at _all _creepy _or _intimidating worried/confused/contemplative grill.

What happened next? Well, I'll _tell _you.

Principal Brooks said --

**-- End of Chapter Eighteen**

* * *

**(A.N. Yeah, I know: "That's it?" For now, yes. Had to end it like Will got interrupted and class started, cuz I got interrupted and had to end it here, since I'm kinda busy later on this week and didn't want to delay its update. It was pretty much close to done by this point anyways, so relax. And NO reviews of "You should've done more" blah blah. Nineteen has all the info you want: What Brooks did/said; what became of Sprita and Ernie; what the girls said when they saw them, etc. It'll probably be "longer" too, which means it also probably won't be updated for . . . many a day? But mainly cuz of work and school too, so yeah. Oh, and yet another new story idea floating around inside of my head, for all you Sitara fans. So . . . yep LoL)**


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _I hate this chapter. I have nothing more to say. Oh, except sorry for the long wait._

_Enjoy/don't enjoy.  
_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in January 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Friday, November 3rd, Biology**

-- "Your highness -- I-I can't believe that one of my very _own_ students is an actual pri . . . O-Oh, _listen_ to me! I'm so nervous that I can't even _say_ it!" is what Principal Brooks had said to me (that I was about to write within my previous entry, but my homeroom teacher had walked in to take attendance) the moment I'd stepped into his office and slowly slid into the seat before his desk.

His voice was exuding with profound nerves and was clearly abashed.

_I_, on the other hand, was _not _feeling skittish, but rather extremely _nauseous_, because I could not _believe_ what I was hearing _or_ seeing. I mean, I wasn't sure whether to laugh or be embarrassed, _myself,_ since Mr. Brooks greatly resembled an avid Boy Band follower or something at that moment.

Of _all_ of the people to have found out about my royal heritage, did it _have_ to be Kerin Brooks? _Now_ was this situation growing _monstrously_ awkward, _especially _with the stupid lopsided smile smeared upon his face (in addition to the way he'd kept placing and removing his visibly clammy hands from out of the pockets of his gray colored suit).

But I _suppose_, within the realistic sense, yet again, since Brooks_ is_ in charge of Heatherfield High, it was inevitable, you know (that he would find out about me, I mean)? And . . . I _guess_ that I can understand and even be accepting of it.

Still. At_ that_ moment, all maturity and rationale that I (somehow) manage to possess within me had halted, as I would have then given just about _anything_ to have been the size of a _fly_ (or any other minuscule sized being) in order to have escaped my mortification and the bulging, Bushbaby-like eyes of Principal Brooks.

Or, _hell!_ Swap powers with _Hay Lin,_ and become invisible in the way that _she_ can. _Then,_ everything would have been "pure gravy," as my mom sometimes likes to say whenever things run smoothly within her life (although, I highly doubt that she'll be saying _that _phraseanytime soon. _Good_).

While Brooks continued on with his little game of proper hand placement while standing before me (Eww, I just realized how gross that kind of sounds. Block it out, Will. Just block it out.), I suddenly heard the office door re-open from behind, as well as the sound of a distinct female clearing her voice.

I instantly thought to myself, _Oh, my God. This new chick behind me is probably the first of many, __many__ reporters who will unfortunately, as well as __undoubtedly__ cover my "miraculous" story. And it's all because Brooks couldn't keep his horribly idiotic mouth shut. I am __so__ doomed . . ._

But, when I'd heard the mystery woman speak, I instantly felt_ relieved_ -- for the _moment_, at least.

"Is . . . everything all right in here? Ernest and I'd heard a lot of . . . _wheezing?_"

Sprita.

I felt myself desperately struggling not to smile at this, as I watched Principal Brooks's cheeks grow supremely red with embarrassment.

When I'd turned my head to look at Sprita, she was standing beside me with her arms folded across her chest and a small smirk splayed upon her tawny face -- A pose and expression that was very "Irmaesque," I'd realized then for a few moments.

_Speaking_ of, it's too bad that _Irma_ isn't the one who happens to be a princess in addition to a Guardian of the Veil. Because then _she_ would need all of this protection, and, _as _a result, I strongly believe there'd be a good chance that she would at least get along with Sprita, if not Ernest. _Plus_, Irma would also _finally_ catch a break from Brooks's ever-watchful eye, and perhaps even be miraculously _favored_ by him (as _I _clearly now am).

_Anyhow_, so I'm sitting there, now thinking to myself that things could have been worse, and so I could just relax and just deal with whatever Mr. Brooks had to say. I mean, sure, he knows "who I really am," and is also now aware of Sprita (sort of. At least of her presence, anyway).

But, still. He may be clearly enamored by me now, but he's also still my principal. So it isn't like I have to worry about him _blabbing_ about this.

Right?

"O-_oh!_ D-did I really sound like that?" Brooks stammered as he asked, suddenly interrupting my thoughts. "I-I'm sorry to have worried you, Miss . . ."

"Just call me Sprita, sir," replied Sprita with a small smile and respectable nod of her dark chocolate colored head towards the older man. "I'm the princess's bodyguard -- Well, one_ half_ of her two bodyguards, rather. I hope that I'm not intruding."

Principal Brooks rapidly waved his hand at Sprita and grinned broadly at the two of us at this.

"Not at _all! _In _fact_, you are just in time for the meeting! _Oh!_ And it's a pleasure to meet one of the _many_ protectors _this_ lucky young lady is _sure_ to have within the future!"

At this, I instantly grew both intrigued as well as a bit irritated. Not because of Brooks's continuous fawning over me, but over the first part of his "blurb."

_Just in time for the meeting._

"_What _meeting?" I'd wondered aloud, blinking rapidly in surprise that I'd spoken my thought instead of having ruminated it silently.

"The meeting regarding your protection and care while attending this . . . _school_, Wilhelmina."

I immediately cringed the moment my ears had regrettably heard the undeniably familiar voice of Eli sounding from behind.

Okay. You know what? I seriously won't have to worry about potential stalkers due to my heritage, when I have my freaking _uncle_ fitting that bill quite _expertly??? _I mean, it wasn't enough that Eli practically suffocated me at my home, but now he had to intrude upon the _one_ place I ironically feel is my only refuge (given all of the recent grief I'd been receiving from fellow schoolmates and all, I mean)?

_Figures_.

"What are _you_ doing here?" I found myself inquire a bit _too_ venomously, because all three occupants -- Well, no. Scratch that. Only _Brooks_ had been the one to let out an extremely sharp gasp, while both Sprita _and_ Eli stared at me with widened eyes.

Well, _what?_

At least I guess this means that he now realizes that I'm not as much of a pushover as he might have originally thought (_hopefully_, anyway).

By this time, though, all hope that I'd previously maintained at remaining optimistic to being normal (at least while at school) had completely disintegrated.

And so, defeated, I just continued to sit within my chair and depressingly awaited to hear whatever new cockamamie rule or objection Eli had to fire at me next.

"My _word!_ Can you both hear at how . . . _anxious_ the young princess is to hear of why I have taken time out of my rather _strenuous_ schedule to pay her such a personal visit?" Eli asked Mr. Brooks and Sprita, clearly trying to mask his indignation and debasement at my outburst. (I guess it was probably because of that whole having to maintain superiority and a flawless composure within the eye of the "Little People" mentality royals love to possess or something. Oh, well. Not my problem, buddy.)

"Well, maybe if you'd stop _intruding_ into my life and rewriting it like some sort _morbid_ fairytale, then you wouldn't _have_ to worry about me embarrassing you right now, now _would_ you?" is what I sorely _wanted_ to say just then, with the words practically flying out of my tightly pursed mouth due to my growing anger.

But since I just wanted to get the hell out of there, get to class and eventually see faces I _wanted_ to see (a.k.a. my friends -- well, kind of. I mean, you know. The whole how to explain all of this to them, blah-blah-blah deal.), I merely grunted softly at him in response.

As Sprita merely bowed in respect at her monarch and moved aside while he walked into the room and took her former place at my side, Principal Brooks promptly came out from behind his desk and extended both of his hands towards his empty leather chair.

"Y-your _majesty!_ I am _so _pleased that you've arrived safely! I can't _tell _you how much of an honor it is to personally meet Marsily's _wonderful_ king!" he gushed, working overtime on sucking up to my uncle.

All right. Am I the _only_ one on the planet who _wasn't_ aware of that blasted country's existence up to now? I mean, I know that it's basically a principal's job to know about such geographical relations, but _geez_ -- Make me feel even _more_ lousy than I do, already, why don't you.

"Why, thank you, Mr . . ."

"Oh, please! Call me _Kerins!_"

"Yes! Well . . . anyhow! I will not need to sit down, as I do not plan to stay very long – I've a few preparations to attend to," Eli delivered mysteriously, his dark blue eyes gazing upon me for a nanosecond (Right, because I didn't see that.), before returning his attention back onto Brooks, who'd decidedly remained standing and unconsciously began to shift his weight back and forth. "I merely want to make sure that everything as we had discussed upon the phone is still understood as well as still in place."

Mr. Brooks nodded vigorously and smiled crookedly at this.

"_Absolutely_, your majesty! Will -- _Oh!_ I mean, _Princess Wilhelmina_ is to have her bodyguards present with her at _all_ times while she is on school grounds."

_This_ was the final straw for me, as my brewing ire had reached maximum.

"_WHAT??_ You _can't_ be serious! How am I going to explain _that_ to everyone? To my _friends?_" I exploded, swiftly rising from my seat and slamming both of my hands onto the principal's desk.

This time around, Eli did _not_ try to deflect his embarrassment.

"Wilhelmina! You _will _contain yourself at _once!_" he scolded, giving me a death stare that bore a striking resemblance to the ones my mother always gives to me whenever I try to cop attitude with her over certain matters.

And then, speaking of Mom (sort of -- You get me), I tried this:

"_No! _I'm _not_ your kid! I'm _Mom's_ kid! I'm sure_ she_ isn't happy about this new 'ruling' or whatever of yours -- _If _she knows at all, that is! And if she _doesn't_, she will as soon as I call her!" I hissed back at Eli, feeling more and more like the old, more confident me and happier by the second for it. (Not to mention that, even though it was a bit rattling to lose it in front of one person I barely knew and _another_ I've always tried to _avoid _knowing, it was the icing on the cake to get to tell off Mr. Self Righteous, here.)

"Um . . . perhaps I will just give the two of you a bit of time to yourselves to . . . sort your affairs more successfully," I heard Brooks say with quiet awkwardness, before hurriedly rushing out of his office and quickly closed the door behind him.

Wish _I _could have done the same.

". . . Shall . . . _I_ do the same, your majesty?" Sprita asked Eli softly, but looked at me as she'd done so. She was probably then thinking, _I can't believe that of all the people to guard, it had to be __her__. What a __brat_

Good. Now you can _quit_, and _I'll_ have one less bodyguard to worry about. But how in the hell would or _could_ I ever be able to drop Stone Cold Ernest (who was _still_ standing outside of the door, I'd later found out), someone who looked as though not even a massive _tsunami_ could ever jar him?

Well, whatever. I'll deal with all of that later.

Eli only raised a hand to Sprita before he and I continued on within our engagement.

And, at this point, so many words had been deployed back and forth between the two of us that I'm going to go into "Lazy Mode" again for the rest of this entry (mainly because the teacher just gazed at me in passing while continuing within his lecture, and I'm busy writing. This is "odd" because he's not giving notes right now. Sigh. Where's a laptop -- or at least a snow day or something -- when you need one?):

**Eli:**_ (Narrowing his dark eyes at me)_ I understand that you're rather upset and overwhelmed by all of this. I am quite positive anyone _would _be within your position -- _Trust_ me.

**Me:**_(Unable to resist the urge the roll my eyes)_ Uh huh. I know the whole story already. _You_ were in my position. Is _that_ why you're continually being completely inconsiderate about this? Because you're trying to get back at what my mother had done to you by punishing _me?_

**Eli:**_(Surprisingly rolls his eyes right back at me)_ I would _hardly_ stoop to such _juvenile_ measures, even_ if_ I wished to "get back" at your mother, Wilhelmina. Nor would I refer to your royal obligations as a "punishment." How long will it be before you simply do as you are_ told_, instead of giving all of those involved such _migraines?_

**Me:**_(Pretends to honestly think about it, placing a finger to my chin)_ Gee, _I_ don't know. Maybe when you go back to your country and leave _me_ out of this?? Either _that_, or whenever you decide to go to the extreme and give me a _lobotomy_ so that I can then obey your every command, your _majesty!_

**Sprita:**_(Awkwardly clearing her throat suddenly)_ U-um, are you _sure_ that you do not wish for me to excuse _myself_ as well, King Elisud? I will be right outside the door with Ernest, and --

**Eli:**_(Raises his hand again towards Sprita and manages to smile faintly)_ -- No need, Sprita. After all, _you_ of all people _should_ be privy to such a . . . _destructive_ display from your princess and future queen, as you are her guardian. You _should_ be keenly aware of the unfortunate challenges you will be faced with, of that I have no doubt. And for _that_, you have my _sincerest_ apologies.

**Me:**_(Gasps in shock and offense, throwing my arms up into the air)__Excuse_ me? So now I'm being painted to be some outlandish_ head case_ or something? Then why _battle _me on this, anymore? I'm a major _delinquent_, right? So I'm _clearly_ not princess material!

**Eli:**_(Suddenly makes a fist and shakes it into the air as he ironically looks at me with pleading eyes rather than extreme anger)_ Because it is your _birth right_, Wilhelmina! And_ however_ rocky this journey may become, you _will _acknowledge that! And your lack of . . . cultural _varnish_, shall we say, is _nothing_ that cannot be remedied by proper training as I'd already told you the other day.

Now, if you will merely stop _debating _me for _one_ second, I can and _shall_ inform you of today's agenda -- _Of_ which, before you try to poorly, and not to mention, _humorously_ "threaten" me with again, your mother is profoundly aware. Although, if it makes you feel a bit better, she had been none too pleased with it before she'd left for work this morning.

Firstly, from now on, as a precautionary measure and already stated, I have decided to deploy both Sprita _and_ Ernest at your disposal while you attend this . . . _educational facility_. And --

**Me:** -- _That's_ what I don't get! Because you'd said so _yourself_ that you _didn't_ want a big commotion about this princess drama until 'the right time' or whatever. So wouldn't having them with me 'at all times' draw _more_ attention onto me versus away from?

**Eli:** (_Apparently not having been previously aware of this valid point before coming to his decision, suddenly gasps softly before seeming to think for a few moments)_ Hmm . . . This raises a good point. Perhaps you _are_ just as clever as I'd surmised since our first encounter . . . All right, then. I shall meet you halfway, Wilhelmina. _Ernest_ shall remain at your side while you are here, and shall keep in touch with Sprita via earpieces as they and the rest of the Royal Family's bodyguards generally do, anyhow. _That _way --

**Sprita:**_(Slowly raises her hand as though a student eager to answer a teacher's question)_ -- E-excuse me, your majesty, and forgive me for interrupting, but if I may make a suggestion?

**Eli:**_(Sighs in fatigue and slight frustration, gently rubbing at his forehead before gazing upon the other female present)_ Good _Lord_. Has _everyone's_ manners been completely eradicated this morning? Fine, fine. What is it, Sprita?

**Sprita:**_(Clears throat once again and moves closer to me)_ Well . . . if attention is not what _either_ of you wish to earn until the time is right, perhaps _I _should be the one to look after the princess, instead? I mean, this _is_ a high school, and while I know that I am twenty-one years of age, I believe that I would be able to pass off as a fellow student more than Ernie -- I-I mean, _Ernest_ could in contrast.

And . . . yeah. Long story short, Sprita surprisingly saved my skin (sort of) right then, by convincing stupid Eli to dump Ernest (Well, for school, anyway. He's still going to tail me everywhere _else_, though, sadly.), but still have _herself_ be with me in every class. And as much as I_ did_ object to that and tried once again to get out of this royal deal, _period_, Eli would no longer budge any further.

But he _was_ ever so kind enough to bestow upon me one more lovely gift.

What was it, you ask? Oh, only that after school today, I have to "report immediately" to my very first (and very _idiotic_) _princess lesson!!!_

**-- End of Chapter Nineteen  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Did I mention that I hate this f.cking chapter? LoL Why? Because the original was far longer and "more better" than this one. LoL But after losing it TWICE, I've had it. I'm just going to post this as is, ignore all of your questions of "Where's Sprita, now? With Will, right?" or "What have people said so far about her being there?" or "Where are the other Guardians!! I'm DYING to know their reaction already!!" and other questions of that nature. Can you all do me one super solid, and NOT ask me those questions, please? Only because I've never let you down before, and so obviously will take care of all of that and more within the next few chapters. Which, now that THIS demon chapter hurdle is FINALLY behind me, I can update more frequently than before. Can't believe I haven't since my birthday. LoL Sorry!)**


	20. Chapter Twenty

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _I can remember when I was on the same page, date wise, anyway, with this story. Now look. It's July, and Will's still stuck in November. LoL Where has the congruity gone? LoL Anyway, I'm so pleased that (some of) you (so far, anyway – Rest of you might be on vacation or whatever LoL) have "forgiven" my lack of updating more swiftly with this bad boy. And that you actually LIKED nineteen...wow. LoL But at least now that it's gone and never coming back (unless you read it again, that is LoL) onto the future!_

_Enjoy the big 2-0!  
_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in July 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty**

**Friday, November 3rd, Girls' Bathroom**

Is it considered "_bad"_ that I've been within this stall for over fifteen minutes or so, when I'd told my English teacher that I'd be right back? "Right back" implies like, a two minute min., five minute max. time frame limit. _Now_ she's going to think that I'm supremely _constipated _or something.

But I just had to get away from all of the questions from various friends and looks from people I don't even talk to or _know_ -- Not to mention get away from Sprita, herself. (But then again, I really _haven't_, because she's right outside of the stall, here, lightly tapping her foot repeatedly the entire duration of our being within the bathroom.

I don't know how or _why_ Ms. Wojick let her come with me to the bathroom, considering that Ms. Wojick's usually . . . I wouldn't say "strict," since she's an all around awesome teacher. But I guess we'll just say that she's a normal, typical teacher when it comes to allowing his/her students to use the bathroom during class time: _Anal_. Ever notice that? How teachers, regardless of their station -- That is, either an elementary school teacher or college professor -- are all united when it comes to kids and their supposedly overactive bladders? I mean, I get that, in a way, it _is_ a bit rude and untimely to want or have to "go" in the middle of a lesson, but come on, now. What are these teachers afraid of? That we students are secretly using "bathroom" as code for "We're going to stage a _coup_ against you vile educators!"??

But, anyway. Dammit. I've gone off into yet _another_ glorious tangent. Maybe I _shouldn't_ take any more bathroom breaks during English class. At least _then_ I could learn how to swiftly get to the point within my writing far more proficiently than I do to date.)

Now, before you say it (that is, if you could _talk_, dear and loyal journal), no, I have nothing against Sprita. I don't even _know_ her. And if she_ has _to be around to "look after" me, I'd honestly prefer it if we can at _least_ tolerate one another. But this is just truly and _unbelievably_ insulting to me to have her be around like this.

I mean, I'm the blippin' Keeper of the Heart of Candracar, blast it! _She_ may be all "kick ass" or whatever when it comes to taking out Peeping Toms or threats against the President of the United States or whatever bodyguards do. (Although, since Sprita's not American, I'm assuming, and sadly has to protect "Uncle Eli" instead, I don't really think that that last bit applies to her so much.)

But could she -- No, _would_ she be able to "tango" with otherworldly creatures who are just _dying_ to tear off your face and wear it as a _hockey mask_ or something?

Didn't think so.

Know what? If I weren't so afraid of the massive repercussions of it all, I would so totally tap into my Guardian . . . ness to make a wish that all of this was over. But then, if I'd said it like that, knowing _my_ luck, I'd accidentally erase all traces of _human existence_.

Anyway . . . What was I saying, er, writing? Oh, _yeah!_ How my life sucks now. Of _course!_

Gotta be quick, though, before I get detention or something for taking so long in here, so I could write what's been going on today so far (and am _no_ where near having gotten started -- On writing about it, I mean).

So, right.

For the rest of Biology earlier this morning, I tried my absolute best to stay focused upon the lesson, as well as remain positive and "_grateful_" that at least it wasn't "Mr. Clean" seated next to me at my lab table. Because _then_ the gazes and queries I'd received during "down-time" (as Mr. Condon, my Bio. teacher, likes to call it when he gives us class work or our lab experiment instructions to carry out) would have been far, _far_ worse.

The only two to have actually bothered to ask more than one question about Sprita's sudden presence (at the time, anyway) were Martin, and his lab partner and friend, Alec (whom I kind of know and vice versa, but nothing "buddy-buddy" so much).

"So, Willinator! Aren't you going to introduce me to your . . . vivacious and _stunning_ new companion?" Martin asked me as suavely as he could as the four of us got up to gather our lab experiment supplies (which never truly succeeds when he does that. His "suave voice," I mean. After all, he'd tried that debonair approach with _Irma_ for _eons_, it seemed like, and the only thing he'd managed to achieve with that was attaining her friendship. But I suppose, all in all, that's a pretty fair consolation prize if he couldn't have won her heart instead -- Something that was never, in a _million_ years, ever going to happen, I might add).

"Huh? What the hell are you -- _Oh!_ Right . . . Sprita," I said in surprise, forgetting for a moment that she was there. Well, no. I didn't really forget. I just didn't really expect anyone of the guy variety to hit on her. You know, because now I know her precise age and all that.

But I guess a guy is a guy is a guy, even _if_ they're of the nerdy kind. _Besides_, Sprita _does _reallylook like to be my age as I'd said before, so it's understandable (although, even if she looked to be about _fifty_, I'm sure that Martin would have flirted with her, _anyway_, since he sometimes has desperate tendencies).

Anyway, so after I'd snapped out of my brief daze and confusion, and had collected all of the various sized beakers we'd need, while Sprita, in tow, had snatched the Graduated Cylinder and microscope, I'd managed to spout out such a fantastic lie from out of no where (which saddens me a bit, that I'm getting to be a pro with my story yarning),

"S-she's my _cousin!_ My cousin who just moved to Heatherfield from San Diego and is here to 'shadow' me in my classes so she can get used to the school before she's enrolled next semester!"

Wow. Even _I _was surprised at the realism of my excuse. But I didn't care. So long as everyone who'd asked about Sprita would believe it, then I'd be just fine.

And thankfully enough, if_ anyone _had to be the first to ask about my bodyguard, I'm truthfully glad it had been Martin, because of his naturally trusting and _gullible _nature, God Bless him.

Because, sure enough, he grins broadly at me and then at Sprita and says,

"Well, then I consider myself _very_ lucky to be a Heatherfield High student! Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Martin Tubbs, and this is my friend, Alec Sinko. And might I say that I hope you're as '_witty_' as your beautifully unique name suggests."

It _would_ figure that Martin would know the meaning of Sprita's name. I didn't even know that that name _existed_, let alone what it _meant_.

Hmm. If he's interested, maybe I'll hire him to be a part of my royal staff or something in the future. (Ew. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit just now for that.)

But, yeah. Basically, from what I can tell, both Martin and Alec are now infatuated with Sprita, who was nice enough to entertain the two of them of that notion. I mean, I just thought she was going to give another smile and nod as she had to Principal Brooks and Eli. But she carried on various mini conversations with the two of them for the rest of class, and didn't really seem to mind their continuous flirting (although she _also_ didn't seem to be receptive to it, either. I'm sure a model-resembling woman as herself has a billion fellow model-like boyfriends back in Marsily, or wherever she steadily resides when off on vacation and not guarding the palace or whatever).

So, okay. That was Biology, and Martin down. Still had the rest of the day to look forward to (including gym class with Irma, Hay Lin, and _evil _Mary. _Psych!_ Thankfully enough and perfect timing, too, there was a school assembly in the auditorium during that period I obviously wasn't aware of, since I was sick. So obviously, the three of us didn't get a chance to talk -- Although, there _were _still the questionable glances sent my way here and there from where Irma and Hay Lin both sat, in the row in front of me and Sprita).

But at least _now_ I had a pretty believable story, as _well_ as "Eager-to-Spread-News-Around" Martin on the loose to solidify my "claims."

Good boy.

_Anyway_, the next few classes had been the same thing, just about, so by the time _lunchtime_ had rolled around I was starting to feel a bit more comfortable within my own skin. _That_ is, until I remembered that, _Oh, my God. I'm about to come face to face with the __Taranee__ for the first time since all of this has begun. Here goes nothing._

So you can imagine my nerves when Sprita and I were approaching the cafeteria doors. I was_ so_ flustered, that I had to duck around the corner near a pair of water fountains -- Which, needless to say, doing so so suddenly had surprised the chocolate haired beauty walking behind me.

"Princess? Is something troubling you?" she asked me a bit too loudly than I cared for as I ran a clammy hand through my "always messy" hair. (Hey. Now that I've given up on Caleb, I don't see any point in overly primping . . . Although, there _is_ that e-mail he'd sent to me! _How_ could I forget about _that?_ Maybe I _should_ have put better care into my appearance today. _Especially_ since he still has to share my book back in class, thank God. _Another_ reason why I should definitely hurry with this entry.)

"H-Hey! _Ixnay_ on the _Incesspray!_" I hissed at her in Pig Latin (which I'm surprised I knew how to say and _why_, since that language's been extinct for ages), swinging my arm at her hastily as other students passed and some of them looked briefly at what the commotion was all about.

Sprita exhaled softly and smiled gently.

"I am sorry, your highness. But it would be far too disrespectful -- and probably my _job_ and _station_, at that -- if I spoke and referred to you so informally."

I could see now, that Sprita wasn't going to make _my_ job any easier in surviving this, no matter _how_ kind of "normal" she seemed to be for a royal guard.

"Well . . . can't you just . . . make an _exception _or something while we're at _school?_ Because people hearing you calling me the '_P_' word would _defeat_ the purpose of our cover story," I countered, nervously cracking my knuckles as I looked about the hallway to see if I couldn't see any of the girls popping out of no where. I knew that I'd only have to deal with Taranee and Cornelia at that moment, obviously.

But _that_ was far worse than seeing all four girls at _once_ (with the obvious reasons about Taranee, and then because Cornelia can be _very_ persistent if she wants to be).

_Plus_, Irma sometimes passes through this way when she decides to skip her Government class and spends the period having a second lunch (or first, rather, since I have lunch before she does) with us.

So, needless to say, I was praying with everything that I had that today would _not _be one of those days (especially since she and Hay Lin didn't get a chance to learn about Sprita "officially" earlier and stuff).

". . . I _guess_ I can manage that . . . so long as this doesn't get back to your uncle or mother, and you don't ask me to extend this to _other_ venues or what have you that Ernie and I shall have to accompany you for."

"If those 'other venues' or whatever don't involve people I _personally_ know, then you have a deal, I guess," I reluctantly agreed.

It was going to suck to hear myself being called "Your Highness" and "Princess" habitually from her, but I didn't really want the fact that Sprita could or would get sacked because of my _high-strung_ uncle on my conscience. (No, not because I have a soft spot for her or anything, but because I don't really think it's so smart to cause an expert martial artist and _gunman_, most likely, to lose their job. _Next_ thing you'd know I'd suddenly find a red dot sight curiously shining upon my forehead one day. _No_, thanks.)

So, I'm still there at the fountains and the bell's about to ring (which means the lunch line would be _excessively_ long by this point, unfortunately), honestly trying to _meditate_, with Sprita just standing patiently at my side.

I'm sure I looked _really _stupid or peculiar, the way I'd suddenly closed my eyes and began to breathe rhythmically. But this was how I got "in the zone" whenever I wanted to (_try_ to) keep Taranee out of my mind when and if I was either worried about or hiding something, and obviously didn't want to say.

See, _my_ little "trick" is that I visualize a brick wall with a giant-sized _tarantula_ crawling upon it. (Obviously the wall's a metaphor for "Keep out, please!", and the spider is specifically for Taranee, and not because she's the only one of we Guardians who can literally know what's roaming around within my mind. It's because she hates bugs, for the most part. So, as soon as she'd try to tap into my mind to read my thoughts, all she'd get is a bunch of jumbled thoughts of walls and big, furry spiders. Of course, _now_ she probably thinks _I'm_ afraid of spiders -- as well as a bit curious about that constant thought about them -- but that's better than knowing my secrets or whatever.)

But I guess _she _does a lot of yoga and meditation, _herself_, or whatever, because then I hear Sprita ask,

". . . Um . . . Pri -- I mean, _Wilhelmina_. Why are you trying to 'reflect' before you go eat your lunch?"

Blushing furiously, I exhaled sharply one last time before I re-opened my eyes and looked straight ahead.

"Oh . . . No reason. I'm ready now," I replied before bending over to take a quick sip of water from the fountain and led the way through the gradually dispersing sea of other students within the hallway and opened the cafeteria doors.

Ah! Geez. Sprita nearly scared me half to death just now. Tapped upon the stall door and said that it's been over twenty-five minutes since we've been in the bathroom.

TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES?? Oh, my GOD, am _I_ ever going to get detention from Ms. Wojick now.

**-- End of Chapter Twenty  
**

* * *

**(A.N. No worries. I know I left you hanging sort of. But chapter twenty-one's FINALLY the Q & A from the girls. Well, at least T and C, anyway. LoL But that was fun with my little "tribute" to my all time fave English teacher of the same name and coolness back in 10th grade. LoL Oh, and my fave Bio. teacher, also of the same name and coolness from my first few semesters in college. Yay. LoL)**


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Wow. Two updates in one shot? You bet your sweet bippy. I TOLD you it was stupid chapter nineteen's fault for the huge delay in an update._

_Enjoy, my kiddies. LoL_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in July 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty One**

**Friday, November 3rd, Math**

_Boy_, did the rest of English suck. Not _only _did I succeed in receiving _more _stares and giggles from most of the class as Sprita and I had returned, but I was right within my prediction of getting a dumb ass detention slip for next Tuesday after school.

Ms. Wojick said that she was "surprised" by me, since I'm usually so well behaved, blah blah blah.

Uh huh. If she only _knew_ half the story.

So yeah. It blows that I have retarded detention, but at least I'm free next Tuesday. Or, at least I _was _until now with this stupid punishment. And it _also_ figures that I yet _again_ get noticed by Caleb when I'm in the middle of being embarrassed. At _this_ rate, he'll really_ think_ that I'm massively certified, even _if _he'd sent that wonderful e-mail to me (which I was _so_ flustered and _pissed off_ about getting detention in the first place, that I'd completely forgotten to thank him for after class. Not that I really_ could_ have, anyhow, since I'd gotten pulled aside by Wojick and had to struggle not to _blush_ to death from all of the personal questions of "Are you feeling well?" and other similar inquiries. _You _know which ones I'm talking about. I _told_ you that either she or others in the class would have thought that I had "bad plumbing!" Thank _God_ Caleb wasn't there to hear _that_, at least).

I am _so_ glad that the end of the day has finally come, and that it's the _weekend!_ I'm _beyond_ stressed and tired!!

Lunch time wasn't so bad as expected, though, but it still wasn't much of a picnic, _either _(with no pun intended).

What happened? Well, although I still have to contend with Irma and Hay Lin later, I've at _least _"explained things" to both Taranee and Cornelia (who seemed a bit more leery of my story than Taranee, ironically). But again, I'm sure that if Martin hasn't bumped into either or both girls by now to tell them about it, himself, then obviously Corny and 'Ranee eventually will.

Be forewarned: I'm going into "Lazy Mode" again for this (Is there any other kind?), because today's lesson is one that I really, _really_ need to pay attention to, even _if_ Matt's back in class today and so can bum notes off of him: (_Speaking_ of Matt, it still feels so great to not have to worry about telling _him_ bogus lies. _He_ just seems to find Sprita's tailing me everywhere "Extremely amusing, and a bit of Karma kicking your _ass_, what with your essentially '_blackmailing_' me into keeping your damned secret," he'd said to me on our way to class. Whatever makes him sleep better at night.):

**Cornelia:**_(Raises her usually and delicately plucked golden eyebrow in a questionable manner as Sprita and I approach the table with our food)_ Um . . . Will? Who's your new . . . _Biker Babe_ friend?

**Me:**_(Blushes in embarrassment, more so at Caleb's inquisitive stares than Cornelia's slight rudeness, since I never did get a chance to explain Sprita's presence to anyone in my English class)_ O-_oh!_ This is my cousin, Sprita. From San Diego. Just moved here. To get used to the school before enrolling.

**Cornelia:**_(Narrows eyes as she usually does when a bit skeptic or confused by something)_ I . . . see. Nice to meet you, Sprita. I'm Cornelia. And this is my _gorgeous_ boyfriend, Caleb.

**Sprita: **_(Smiles her patented polite grin and sets down her food tray with one hand while extending her other to shake both Cornelia's and Caleb's hands)_ Indeed he _is_. Congratulations, Cornelia -- It's nice to meet you both. I've heard so much about you from . . . _Cousin_ Wilhelmina.

**Me:**_(Surprised at how assimilated Sprita's already become to playing the role of my relative versus my bodyguard, in addition to being surprised and a bit irritated that both she and Cornelia had to capitalize upon Caleb's hotness -- Who, by the way, after blushing a bit for that compliment, __never__ spoke for the entire lunch duration, but would just sit and listen to us talk. If he wasn't busy receiving kisses from Cornelia __yet__ again, that is, which stabbed at my heart and confused me some)_ Uh . . . okay, then! So where's Taranee? Is she in school today?

**Cornelia:**_(Waves a hand at me and shrugs before taking a bite of her salad and then swallows)_ Yep. She went to the bathroom. So, anyway! _Tell_ me something, _Wilhelmina_. First off, I'm very surprised that you're actually allowing at least _one_ person in your life to call you by your full name. You two must be pretty close . . . even though_ I've_ never heard anything about you up until now, Sprita.

**Me:**_(Not expecting to hear such a good point, since I usually tell the girls everything about everyone the majority of the time)_ W-well, I --

**Sprita:** -- It's _because_ we are so very close that Wilhelmina -- I mean, _Will_, doesn't really mind if I call her by her full name on occasion. Well, no. _Actually_, we used to be_ far_ much closer, she and I, before I'd moved away to San Diego when we were younger . . . But once she'd found out that I was moving here to Headersfeld, we've just been rebuilding that bond.

**Cornelia:**_ (Unfortunately far too steadily intrigued by Sprita's background, while Caleb continues to eat and listen, and __I'm__ about ready to pass out from growing nerves, of __course__ just when I see Taranee coming into the cafeteria, too)_ It's _Heatherfield_, Sprita. I guess the recent move has you too overwhelmed to really remember proper names of towns.

**Me:**_(Wondering why Cornelia's being a bit __too__ bitchy more than lately to someone she just met, when she normally has better social manners and grace than this, forces a smile)_ U-uh, _yeah!_ I mean, when_ I_ first moved here, I was _always_ getting the name wrong and getting lost and_ other_ crap involved with living within a new town! And _look!_ Here's Taranee! Hey, 'Ranee! This is Sprita, my cousin from --

**Cornelia:** -- San Diego and here to spend, what? The rest of the semester, probably? Yeah, the rest of the semester with her at school.

**Taranee:**_(Raises her own, dark eyebrow in confusion at us before shaking Sprita's hand and sits on the other side of me)_ Wow. Um . . . information overload, there. It's nice to meet you, though, Sprita -- That's a pretty name. I think it means 'witty,' right?

**Sprita:**_(Nods and giggles, which surprises me since I've never heard her laugh before)_ Apparently my name _isn't_ as "foreign" as I'd always believed it would be. I'm impressed, Taranee.

**Taranee:**_(Blushes and shrugs with a smile of her own)_ Well, you know, it's really no big deal. I mean, I guess you can kind of say that I'm a walking encyclopedia of sorts or whatever.

**Sprita:** Nothing to be bashful over, Taranee. You should be _proud_. That's something you and Cousin Will both share.

**Cornelia:**_(Coughs loudly at this, which causes the rest of us to look at her in confusion, while __I'm__ also blushing at Sprita's surprising compliment and still trying to keep my wits about me now that "Miss Mind Reader's" here)_ Uh huh . . . So, right! _Speaking_ of "foreign," you have a _very _distinct accent, Sprita. _Will_, where is your cousin originally from?

**Me:**_(Jumps in surprise, blushing harder when my eyes lock with Caleb for a brief moment, before I force myself to look away, lest my thoughts shift from bugs and walls to becoming the mother of his children some day or something)_ W-what?? Oh! W-why do you say that, Cornelia?

**Cornelia:**_(Finishes the last of her salad before breaking off a piece of her jumbo chocolate chip cookie and shares it with Taranee, who turned out to not to be hungry, regardless)_ Well I'm just saying. I've _been_ to San Diego many times before, and from the sound of Sprita's accent, she doesn't _sound_ to be a native of the city, that's all. So I'm just intrigued.

**Taranee:**_(Chews thoughtfully upon her cookie as she shares a curious glance with the blonde before looking at me) I'd_ say _very_ intrigued is more like it, Corny.

**Cornelia:**_(Lightly glares at Taranee before re-focusing her attention back onto me)_ Is it a _crime_ to want to know about things? So, are you going to tell me, Will, or do I have to _guess?_

**Me:**_(Growing a bit irritated at Cornelia's consistent interrogation) _Well, why not ask _Sprita?_ She's right _here_, isn't she? And she _has_ a mouth, obviously, that works just fine, so --

**Cornelia:**_(Clearly pissed off now, herself)_ -- Whoa! What's _your_ problem? I can't ask questions about someone from your family I haven't met yet? Well --

**Sprita:** -- It's _okay!_ It's all right. Please don't fight on _my_ account. Thank you, first off, for taking notice in my accent. And you're right. I'm _not _originally from San Diego. I was born in France.

**Cornelia:**_(Raises an eyebrow to us again at this)_ Is that _right? _That's interesting. Because I practically _live_ in France -- _Paris_, specifically -- and your accent doesn't really seem --

**Me:**_(Suddenly remembering the list of official languages apparently spoken in Marsily that I'd read about the other day)_ -- _That's_ because Sprita's what you'd call a bit of a "_Globetrotter_," Cornelia. Sort of like_ you_, you know? _Yeah_, she was born in France, but she moved to _Italy_ when she was really young. So . . . yeah. She and I always used to joke around at how her accent sounds like one from_ every_ country rolled into one! R-_right_, Sprita?

**Sprita:**_(Grins at me in amusement and winks after having finished her meal as well) _That's exactly right, Cousin Will. But now I think that I'm really going to enjoy going to school here at _Heatherfield_ High. Your friends are every bit as . . . _friendly _as you'd described.

And that was it. Well, I mean, there was more talking, but the conversation _finally_ seemed to shift away from Sprita's presence and me, _period_, up until the bell rang.

CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT??

All of my worrying and prepping for the questions of "Why have you been acting so crazy, lately?" or suddenly hearing Taranee's voice within my head, asking me those same inquiries and _more_ via her telepathy, or _anything_ like that.

Just a regular (for the _most_ part, anyway) lunch period.

And I don't know whether to feel either _relieved_ for that, _foolish_ for having worried and stressed myself to death over it, or _neglected_ that there _wasn't _the big pile up of inquisitions.

Oh, well. It's over now, and that's all that matters. Well, day _one_ of keeping the secret is over, anyway. I'm sure that there will be one billion and one more opportunities to make a fool of myself.

Only thing I _do _wish would have happened was getting a chance to actually _talk_ to Caleb _alone_ (since I obviously couldn't in study hall later, since we don't sit anywhere near one another, if you remember) to thank him for the e-mail. He probably thinks that I don't care.

I DO!! I REALLY AND TRULY DO!!

And if I didn't have my damned _princess lesson_ after school, then I'd go find him and _tell_ him so.

Okay. Well maybe I _wouldn't_. I'd be too embarrassed (and chances would be _very_ strong that he'd be with Cornelia, _anyway_, as always -- Which, again, confuses me. I mean, he _does_ kind of like me now . . . right?).

Maybe I'll send him a nice_ E-Card_, instead.

No, no. I'll thank him in person. _That_ way he'll _definitely_ know, from the sound of my voice and the look upon my face, just how much it meant to me.

Sigh. Only sixteen more minutes left until school's out. (I can't _believe_ that I'm depressed about math class being over.)

Only one question left at ask: Go with the flow, or go to my lesson with guns blazing?

Duh. As if I had to honestly ask myself that question.

**-- End of Chapter Twenty One  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Disappointed by the fact that questions weren't ask about what's been up with Will? Or do a lot of you already suspect that it will be eventually, regardless? And are you disappointed that Irma and Hay Lin weren't there? Or, are all of you REALLY disappointed by the fact that Caleb ignored Will again? You know, what? I'm thinking that she should have stuck to moving on from him. Maybe she'll meet her Prince Charming later on. LoL Anyway, I'm also sure that some or all of your Corny fans reading this are like, "WHY must you insist upon making her seem so b.tchy?" I honestly wasn't TRYING to, but the more I wrote the more and more "grr" she came off as. I know I don't like her, no, but I'm remaining as neutral as possible about her when I write her parts, I swear. LoL)**


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note:_ Huh. So my good pal, Sniper Fodder, raised a good point about the last chapter. Y'know, of how Will had dreaded up and down seeing the girls – specifically Taranee – and nothing as she'd surmised had occurred. Here I thought I was sort of letting some of you down with the big build up and then nothing, when I'd succeeded in illustrating true life (of things you think will happen don't, and vice versa). Go, me. LoL_

_Anyway. I hope to receive more reviews for the previous chapters (which I'm sure I might, since 28 of you have put this story in your story alerts archive and 26 had put it in their fave stories – Thanx for both – but the site's kind of backed up again with sending out bot e-mails) and reviews period for this story still. You guys kick mondo ass. LoL Maybe even more so than Sprita can and probably does. LoL Oh right. And to answer a friend of mine who'd asked if "witty" is what Sprita's name really mean, yes'm._

_Enjoy!_

_Oh. And glad I haven't (so far, anyway) irked any of you Cornelia fans about the previous chapter. Honestly wasn't trying to pick on her because I don't like her. LoL  
_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in July 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Two**

**Later on Friday After School,**

**En Route to the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel (YET Again)**

Guess who's back to join the "party?"

Yep. Cheerful, beloved Ernest.

He's seated right across from me and next to Sprita, once again inside of this _stupid_ limo _equally_ stupid Eli had sent to bring me straight to the Plaza. At least he was "nice" enough to have the driver park a few blocks _away_ from the school so no one I knew and vice versa would see me mysteriously climb inside.

But it wasn't easy shaking off the girls to accomplish that, though.

_Nor _was it very easy to maintain my "mind-focus," so to speak, while shoving yet _another_ falsity about where I was going proverbially down each of their throats.

"Uh . . . I-I can't go to the park with you guys," I said when Matt, Sprita and I suddenly found ourselves bombarded by all four other Guardians, after the final bell had rung and the majority of the school's student occupants had immediately bolted out of the doors and off the premises.

And this sucked, too, because I'd just remembered, in the midst of all the chaos and stress, that I truly _had_ agreed upon hanging out with the girls in the park earlier that week, since the weather had been a bit unseasonably warm and beautiful for this time of year. (Plus, with all of the homework and busy schedules we each have, it was also supposed to be our way of trying to play "catch up" with one another -- Not to mention have a chance to gossip about how fun Eddie's Halloween Ball had been, which, _clearly _by now, I would _not_ wish to discuss as originally planned.)

"Wait, _what?_ But _you're_ the one who'd decided upon the park in the _first_ place, Will!" Hay Lin protested with a disheartened gaze, as all seven of us had made our way outside and into the parking lot area. She always looks like a little kid whenever she makes that "Puppy Dog" face at any of us and for whatever reason -- _Especially_ with her long, black pigtails that she usually keeps her hair within. (Although, ironically not today, since she'd apparently decided to "let it all hang out," so to speak. And then, in contrast, she'll appear _older_ whenever she does that. Go, fig.)

She was right. It _had_ been my suggestion to go to meet at Heatherfield Park as a way to wind down, instead of to the roller rink as Irma had contributed as an idea.

"_Yeah! _I feel like we barely see you anymore, Willie! There is _no_ way that you're gonna skip out on 'Gossip Hour,' _especially _since, 1: It's shaped out to be such an _extremely_ gorgeous day, now; 2: I have yet to tell you guys what _Eddie_ had the _nerve_ to say to me in IM the other night; and 3: Me and Hay Lin are the only ones who haven't been properly introduced to your new comrade. Oh, and not to mention, hear why you've suddenly been acting like my grandmother's very skittish cat, Fraidy," Irma had ironically and promptly chimed in, rushing forward from her place at a mysteriously brooding Cornelia's side (who was sans Caleb, miraculously) to wrap her arm around me, while politely grinning at Sprita in acknowledgment.

Damn.

I guess I was right, _after_ all, that one of the girls _would_ call me on my lame behavior lately. But at least there was no time to say anything -- For _now_.

And so, while growing all aflutter all over again and eyeballing Taranee to make sure that she wasn't staring me down or something (which is usually a good indication that she's about to use her mental screwdriver upon your skull to tune into another session of "Brain Radio." But she _wasn't_, thankfully, because she was looking rather pensive, herself. Actually, she seemed that way all through lunch, too. If I had more time, I'd ask her what was up.), I swiftly blurt out,

"Sorry, Irma -- _Guys!_ But my mom kind of planned some 'Mother-Daughter' dinner date thing at the last minute that I couldn't get out of, and I have to report home A.S.A.P.! Maybe I'll catch you all tomorrow instead! Oh! And this is Sprita, my cousin! Ask Matt! He'll fill you in, _won't_ you, Matt? Okay, gotta go now! _'Bye!_" and practically sprinted out of the parking lot with a taken aback Sprita in tow (with Matt stammering in surprise and protest in the process. No surprise, there, since he's forced to yet again cover for me. Just hope his mind _and _body are strong enough to withstand the possible bombarding the girls might catapult his way).

On our way down the few blocks to the "hidden" limousine and I'm hearing Sprita suddenly say behind me, "Copy that. I am with the package right now, and we are en route to the stretch" (to which I lightly sighed at, since I was utterly certain that "package" obviously was code for myself, and that she was using her earpiece thingie that she'd meticulously concealed with her medium length locks, to respond to whom was most likely Ernest -- who _still _has yet to speak to me, personally, I might add, which is admittedly kind of freaking me out now. I mean, how do I_ really_ know that he _is_ what he and others so far claim him to be? For all _I_ know, all of my suspicions about him being some psycho-stalker-killer _could_ be true, and he's just using the whole bodyguard gig as a cover to get close enough to me. Eww. Okay. Calm _down_, Will. Now you're starting to grow more paranoid than _Taranee_, and that's saying something.), I turn my head towards her as I'm bitterly stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans and go,

". . . Hey. Thanks . . . you know. For today and everything. Going with the flow or whatever."

Sprita, who'd just then finished communicating with presumably Ernest and put her left hand down away from her ear on the same side (where the earpiece was, yeah), maintains her pace and place behind me while responding with yet another small smile.

"It . . . was no trouble, your highness. You _are_, after all, my -- _our_ country's future monarch, and so I am obligated to oblige to whatever is your will."

_Whoa_. Where did _that_ come from? I was so used to "High School Sprita" version by that time, that her reverting back to her obeying escort mode caught me so off guard that I'd ended up stupidly (and of _course_ with a splash of embarrassment) smashing my face right into a streetlight pole as she and I had approached an intersection.

Lovely. Why _wouldn't_ I do something like that? And you Marsilian people or whatever you call yourselves actually want _me_ as your future queen? When I can't even seem to manage the simple task of walking down a(n) (currently _empty_, I might add) sidewalk, which meant zero traffic to have been pushed or something within the direct path of said pole?

"_Princess! _Oh, God! Are you _all right?_" I can manage to hear Sprita hastily ask me through the intense ringing sound that was now going on within my throbbing head, before she practically pounced upon me to help pick me up. "_Oh! _Your cheek is contused and _bleeding!_ Perfect! Now, your uncle will _surely_ fire me for not having taken better care of you! And on my _first_ day, no less!"

"Argh . . . _Ow!_ D-don't touch it, please, Sprita! I-I'm _fine!_ I'm all right! I've had -- _Ouch!_ Worse scrapes than this, _believe_ me," I informed the unhinged brunette, as she helped me back onto my feet and kept awkwardly touching my bruise. "A-and, _anyway!_ You're _not_ going to get fired or busted for this, when it was my _own _fault for being clumsy -- Not a first time for _that_, either. Oh, and _please_ don't start with the 'your highness; princess' crap again."

Sprita exhaled gruffly in attempts to calm herself down, and ran a hand through her hair as her eyes pierced into mine.

". . . If you are _sure_, princess, then we will just wait until we've arrived at the Plaza to properly treat your wound. But _until _then, I'm going to have to _insist_ that you apply pressure to it with this."

Before I could effectively swat at her, the _next _thing that I know, Sprita's expertly maneuvering around my flailing arms and firmly applying the peach colored handkerchief she'd pulled out of her leather jacket pocket onto my face with a small frown.

Wincing, I let out a sharp sigh, myself, and am like,

"_Geez!_ You're like a freaking _chameleon_, the way you've suddenly gone from relatively tolerable back at school, to _panicky_ like my _mother _or something! And I just _said _to lay _off _the formal titles and stuff!"

"And I'd told _you_ this morning, _Princess Wilhelmina_, that I cannot and _will _not defy the truth of your lineage by referring to you in any other manner _except_ what is appropriate -- Negating your school, of course, as agreed upon. I'm just trying to do my job," Sprita replied, clearly going more and more back into her professional zone by this point.

And that's when I just quit speaking and trying to argue with her, since I knew that she'd probably karate chop me before she'd ever relent. (That, and I was then developing a massive headache the size of the state of Texas.)

You know who Sprita _now_ reminds me of (kind of), instead of Irma? I mean, with her obviously cool personality (I guess -- Only known her for a day, so it's sort of difficult for me to clearly map out her definite nature just yet), but _also _has that seriousness and _super_ responsible crap thrown in that ruins it?

_Cornelia_.

That's sort of comforting as it is _vexatious_ to think of. I mean, because lately Cornelia hasn't been my most favorite person (and, judging from lunchtime and our parting a bit ago, the feeling is for, _whatever_ reason, mutual).

I mean, she (Cornelia) really _does_ sometimes acts like "Big Sister" to me for various things going on within my life. _Now_, it's like having _double_ the dosage of said treatment, now that _Sprita's_ around. (And how ironic _is _that, that both females currently remind me of one another, when it's apparent that Cornelia doesn't really seem to like the older girl? What was _up_ with that, anyway? The more I'm reflecting upon it, the more annoyed and bothered by it I'm beginning to feel. So I'd better mentally file it away under "To Be Continued" before I end up in the E.R. from all of the emotional variations I've been experiencing for _forever_. But regardless, knowing Cornelia as well as I do, if it was just a fluke, then it was just a fluke. But if she really _does_ have issues with either Sprita or myself -- Or both, who knows? -- then be rest assured that I'll encounter _more _drama about it no matter what I do, and whether or not I focus upon it.)

_Anyway_, so now here I am, still riding within the limo and gently nursing my laceration (that I have yet to see what it actually looks like, and am not looking forward to seeing, honestly, since it already feels like it's swelling up some. All_ I_ can say is thank _God_ it's the weekend and I won't have to add this to my long and growing list of things to try to explain to those who'd regrettably ask.) with Sprita's handkerchief, writing this entry.

That, and also _massively_ brooding over how I'm being forced to sacrifice _much_ needed bonding time with my girlfriends (with whom my friendship will most likely and sadly take a _miracle_ to hold onto at this point, I might add) to go learn how to apply makeup proficiently in under two minutes or something.

This really sucks. It really _does_. I just want to go home, draw a scalding hot bath (just the way I like my baths and showers, usually, regardless of the weather), clean up and cover this cut with a band aid or whatever, put on the new frog floppy and comfy slippers I'd bought a few weeks ago with my pajamas, and then curl up within my cozy bed and read a good book or something. (And . . . _maybe_ even get a hug from my mom to help me feel a bit better, even though I'm still upset with her for indirectly putting me within this position in the first place.)

But, nooooo. _Instead_, I'm being hauled away to the dreaded lair of the fire breathing dragon that is my estranged and unyielding kinsman.

_Ugh_. We're slowing down. Must mean that we're here, already.

Ick.

Yep. Just looked out the window.

_Dammit_.

All right, Eli. As the song goes: "_Hit me with your best shot_."

**-- End of Chapter Twenty Two  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Squee. C'est fini! I know, I know: "Kind of short." Again. Yeah. But how much COULD Will have written, realistically, while on her way to a scheduled destination? Even I can't write that fast manually. LoL But don't cry, dear children. I will most likely have twenty three out either later today or tomorrow, with the "hilarious" first princess lesson. If I were Will and had to deal with this, I'd probably have punched a hole straight through Eli's head or something by now. LoL Nah. I'd most likely b.tch and moan as much as she's been, react the same way since we're both on the Tomboy side, and begrudgingly concede...and THEN punch a hole straight through Eli's head. LoL j/k Anyway, keep those reviews coming! They motivate me so! LoL)**


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note:_ Do me a solid favor, all you readers/"fans" and friends? Please, whatever you do, do NOT ever make comments about italics, okay? Because in the case of Will, if you see them, it's what she's putting emphasis upon either within her head or when/if she verbally says it before writing it into her journal (and how I hear it in MY head or say aloud before writing it down). And if you see things underlined, then that's her ILLUSTRATING said emphasis for those who might one day read her entries (as we all obviously do but she isn't aware of LoL). _

_Savvy? Yay! (Cuz me no likie nitpicking. LoL)_

_Of course, in this entry's case, she'll be later showing you a list Eli has given to her (which was typed up) and some parts are underlined so that she can remember it._

_Okay. We're good! Read on! LoL_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in July 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Three**

**Saturday, November 4th, 12:17 pm,**

**Vandom Loft, My Bedroom**

I am so _unbelievably_ bushed, it's not even funny. I can't remember the last time that I'd slept for well over _twelve hours_.

But if _you_ had a psychotic Drill Sergeant for an uncle, _you'd_ be konked out for just as long -- If not _longer_.

By the time I'd gotten home last night from my princess lesson, it was around ten-thirty or so (after having arriving at the Infinity at two-twenty-five in the afternoon). And the only energy I'd had left to my name had granted me just enough strength to make it into my bedroom to promptly collapse onto my bed.

I was _so_ tired, in fact, that I didn't even bother to change or kick off my sneakers (which I'm guessing that my mom had taken care of for me during the night, since, when I'd woken up this morning around ten, I'd found them neatly upon the floor beside the bed -- Not to mention that I was also curiously tucked in, when I'd just _literally_ plopped my body, face down and diagonally across the mattress before instantly passing out).

_Speaking_ of Mom, she's_ still _trying to work overtime to get back into my good graces I guess, because I knew that she'd be (and was) up waiting for me to come home last night (especially since I'd overheard Eli apparently arguing with her over the phone in another room about me, during my _far _too brief a break around eight o'clock), but hadn't come out to ravage me with either a multitude of queries, _or _hugs and kisses. (Although, if she had, I'd have been prepared -- For the questions, I mean -- since I was in "Q&A" mode all day _and_ night, thanks to the girls, and then later on, Eli and his _bogus _lesson, which I will get to writing about in a minute.)

Regardless, I was still expecting her to do so when I'd eventually dragged myself out of bed and went straight into the kitchen (without first bothering to do my usual morning ritual of brushing my teeth and washing my face -- Hey, I was still tired) to make myself some breakfast.

Now _that_, admittedly, had been a rather pleasant event.

Why?

Because of three things:

**1.** Even though I hadn't anticipated nor _wanted_ her to do so, really, Mom had made and laid out a fantastic spread for breakfast upon our cozy-sized, circular breakfast table, with all of my absolute favorite foods to eat in the morning (but never really get to so much anymore, since I'm either always so late for school or busy, and mainly because of the swim team -- Which I totally have to squeeze in extra practice time and see Coach Gracie some time today).

**2.** When I'd sat down and actually allowed her to engage me in what had happened at my first princess lesson, all she _had_ asked was how my _school _day had gone, and if I'd gotten to hang out with the girls (which I was totally surprised and grateful for, since I assumed she really was going to go into "worry mode" and ask a trillion-plus questions of things like if I'd been taken care of or whatever. Oh, yeah, I _was_, but not in the way that _either_ of us, admittedly, would have liked).

**3.** (And, most importantly) No one "extra" was within the loft. No Eli showing up unwanted with more "royal business." No guards posted outside of mine or Mom's door, or congregating within the living room. Just me, Mom, and peace and quiet for a change.

Just what the doctor ordered, after one of the most chaotic weeks of my life (and that's _including_ most, if not all of my Guardian-related business weeks, as well).

In fact, I was feeling _so_ unstrained and less perturbed over the previous evening's royal session, that I'd actually _volunteered_ to let Mom know what'd happened.

"Are you sure? Because you really don't have to if you don't want to. I can understand all too_ well _of how rigorous and overwhelming it must have been," she said as we sat across from one another at the breakfast table, continuing to eat our morning meal.

". . . Yeah, I guess. I mean, I _know_ you, and you'd just ask me about it sooner or later, _anyway_ -- That is, if your dear old baby brother wouldn't have filled you in before_ I _could have," I said flatly with a tired shrug, swallowing the last of my French Toast. "Be right back."

"'Be right' -- ?" Mom started in distinct confusion, after setting down her coffee mug and watched me abruptly rise from the table and walk out of the kitchen.

When I came back, I had within my hand a small, yet fancy-looking, memo book covered in purple velvet and with a golden insignia of two doves adorning the front.

"Will, what's --"

"-- Well I figure why bother _telling_ you about it, when I can just _show_ you the hell _you've_ basically put me through," I interrupted my bewildered mother (who was then lightly scratching her head and messy bun in the process), after carelessly tossing the book onto the table (which was kind of rude to do, I know, but I didn't care) before sitting back down.

Expecting my mother to get emotional and sulky as she _has_ been ever since the "big bad family secret" had come out, she actually started _laughing!!_

Like, bust a gut, going-to-spew-chunks type of laughing!!

And I mean, not like I had really _wanted_ her to blubber like a baby or what have you, but I _definitely _didn't want her to derive _pleasure_ from my misery, in addition to _Eli's_ apparent Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder!

Growing more and more ornery by this, I was about to get back up and just leave without a word when I hear Mom, through her fits of giggles, go,

"O-oh, I'm _s-sorry_, honey! I-I don't mean to _laugh!_ And I'm not laughing at _you_, or _happy_ you're clearly so miserable now, _believe_ me! It's just that . . . seeing this brings back a lot of memories for me when _I _was a girl."

I scoffed at this.

"Right, because hearing that you _too_ had your own '_Royal Time Log_' back within _your_ princess days -- that you'd decidedly kept hidden from me since day _one_, we'll just pass mention to yet _again_ -- will make me feel _so _much better," I said acrimoniously with a roll of my eyes.

Suddenly, I was lamenting my decision to have bothered to open up the proverbial door to discuss my asinine premiere princess lesson at all.

At least if Eli _had_ done it for me, that would have been that, and _I_ wouldn't have to acknowledge Mom about it ever again.

Damn you, my demulcent emotions (What's _left_ of them, anyway) towards my mother.

"No, no. I know, Will. I do. I'm sorry," Mom said, finally calming down as she reached a hand out to beckon me to remain where I was. "I just didn't think that you would end up having one -- Or, at least, not on the _first day_, anyway."

I just rubbed my suddenly sore neck, as I sunk into my chair and picked at my scrambled eggs with my other hand.

"Yeah, well. I'd rather have had only_ read _what had been planned for the lesson, versus having to actually _do_ it," I mumbled.

Mom raised an eyebrow at this as she maintained her grasp upon the purple clothed leaflet.

"I can understand _that_ all too well, as well, sweetie," she said to me in consensus, before smiling faintly and clearing her throat as she caught my unappreciative glare. "A-_anyway!_ So, what _did_ happen yesterday?"

"Read on," I simply answered with a flick of my fork, before resuming my eating and idly watched my mom crack open the memo book.

Since I know that _you're_ also just dying to know what had occurred, as well as what had been written within the stupid time log, I've written a copy into here (with, yet again, aftereffect annotation tacked on by me):

_**Friday, November 3rd**_

_**Princess Wilhelmina's Royal Lesson I**_

_Primary Lesson Agenda: Proper Social Etiquette_

_2:45 pm. - 3:45 pm._

_Cosmetic Consultation with Malvina and Mabelle Kalah_

Now _this_ had been an interesting adventure. I never knew how much work went into making the beautiful people even _more_ beautiful. (Or, in_ my_ case, just covering up a "hideous wound.")

All _I_ know is, I'm _never_ going to get injured before I have to go to another princess lesson ever again. And if I do, I'm going to make sure that it's never _seen_.

See, when I got into the presidential suite, there Eli was with his bodyguards (Why would he need them then, when he was just inside of a _private_ _room_ and _not_ out in public and stuff, is beyond me), standing in front of the same fireplace that Mom had been near when I'd first gone there.

"Ah, _there_ you are! And only . . . forty-five minutes late," he said with a small smile, briefly gazing down at the pocket watch he held within his strong, tanned hand (while Sprita bowed towards both he and I, before leaving my side to begin exiting the room with Ernest so that Eli and I could have privacy, I guess. As _if_), before suddenly letting out a sharp, horrified gasp after looking at me properly and goes, "Good _God!_ Sprita! _Ernest!_ What is the _meaning_ of this? Princess Wilhelmina's face has appeared to have been savagely contused! Were you within some sort of scuffle? _Honestly_, I'd have expected better from two of Marsily's _finest_ bod --"

"-- Unless you can count a _streetlight pole_ as some sort of 'royal predator,' then no, I_ wasn't_, Eli," I interrupted, handing Sprita's peach handkerchief back to the grimacing older girl.

"_What_ streetlight? What are you --"

"-- _Relax_, guy! _Okay?_ I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and ended up railing into it. Sure, it hurts a bit and sucks, but it's no big _deal_ -- _Nor_ had it been Sprita _or_ Ernest's fault. So don't, like, you know, _fire_ them or whatever. Just _chill_."

Eli looked positively floored by this. _Clearly_, he had never been spoken to within this manner before.

First time for everything.

"_Well!_ It is certainly a good thing that I'd decided to switch today's original, intended lesson of 'Foreign Diplomacy,' to 'Social Etiquette!'" he said with an eerie calm within his voice (although his dark blue eyes were profusely shining with abundant bedevilment) after dismissing Sprita and Ernest from the room with a wave of his hand. "After this morning's 'Tête-à-tête' -- as well as in accordance to _this _current display of _vulgarity_, I'd say that not only are you in dire need of it, but have _copious _work ahead of us! But alas, first, thanks to your apparent lack of coordination, we will have to first treat your wound and conceal it before going any further -- A princess must _always _maintain her composure and appearance whenever in public, and even whenever _not_."

I guess that last bit he'd added (Well, all of it, really) was supposed to have caused me to "reflect" and feel bad for my behavior, because he'd put massive emphasis upon the words before gently snapping his fingers into the air.

Pfft. Please.

Didn't even cause a dent.

All I wanted to do was go_ home_, and if I couldn't do that (which, clearly, I could not), then at least be able to lie down for a while and unwind from a hectic first day back to school since having recovered from my double physical sickness from my cold in addition to deplorably learning about Eli, Marsily and its relation to me (Well, learning about Marsily, _period_ -- Insert huge blush here), and the whole shebang.

That's when I noticed the white clothed, elongated table that had been set up within the corner of the greatly spacious room. On it were various silverware, plates, and glasses of all sizes (All of which, definitely looked rather expensive, and made me all the more less inclined to interact with _any_ of them if that was Eli's intention, since I don't think that my current financial intake would even _begin_ to cover just _one _piece of dishware, let alone all of them) that had been placed meticulously as well as strategically.

"What's with the fancy spread? Expecting company or something? In which case, I can _definitely_ get out of your hair and re-schedule this princess thing for another time -- Like _never_, maybe," I said with a smirk before gently yawning. "Oh, and by the way, even _without _having gotten hurt, I _wasn't_ late. School lets out two minutes after two o'clock everyday. And it takes around thirty minutes-plus or so to get here, if not including traffic -- Which there _would_ be a lot of, since the kids who can drive are busy trying to get on with their lives, like the kind_ I_ used to have, thanks."

"Dually noted, Wilhelmina. Now that you've informed me of the approximate time frame that it takes for you to arrive for each princess lesson, I shall be able to know if and _when _you have instead dillydallied," Eli responded with another small smile, seeming to have calmed down. (I don't _get_ this guy. Every time I'm sure that I've caused him to blow a gasket and get _so_ frustrated with me and my purposely over-the-top behavior, that he'll just quit, go back to Marsily and _never_ come back, he just seems to let it slide and go back to his composed and simpering self. What the _frig??_ What will it take to break him? _What????_) "And that 'fancy spread' as you call it, is for _you_."

Now this, I was actually pleased to hear about, in truth (despite having already had a hunch, in addition to being a bit apprehensive to go anywhere near that table for reasons already stated). Since I'd been so nervous at lunch to really enjoy my meal (and/or finish it) coupled by the fact that that had been at ten-thirty in the morning and I usually eat a snack after school when I get home, I was actually pretty _famished_.

And if I was going to be stuck within this suite for however long Eli and the rest of these royal maniacs planned on having me, I was going to need all the energy I could muster.

So, with a shrug, I started to make my way over to the table, when I suddenly felt several two pairs of hands encase themselves around my arms from behind.

"H-_hey!_ What's going --" I began with a start, looking from Eli (who looked back at me with great amusement, of course) standing before me, to two, identical young women with wavy, flowing auburn hair. They simultaneously smiled graciously at me once our eyes had met.

My mood had instantly shifted from intentional arrogance, unfortunate hunger, and regrettable fatigue, to the same absolute _paranoia_ I had felt when I was on my way to unknowingly meet Eli for the first time. I started to think, _Oh, crap! I think I might have pushed the envelope too far this time! __Now__ he's going to have these apparent twins, who are probably undercover assassins, 'dispose' of me!_

I know, I know. I seriously either need some heavy duty therapy or something, or a nice, relaxing vacation to calm my growing nerves. (Maybe it's just some sort of delayed, post-battle trauma that I'm beginning to experience from my otherworldly duties or whatever. Either way? _Calm_ yourself, Will!)

But blame _those _two chicks!_ They're_ the ones who shouldn't have been slinking up on me all _ninja-like_.

So _anyway_, Eli walks up to me and rests one hand upon my shoulder, while extending his other to acknowledge the newcomers (who'd then finally released me and moved to my side, and curtsied in respect to the both of us).

"Wilhelmina, meet Malvina and Mabelle Kalah, two of Marsily's -- In fact, two of the _world's_ most prestigious hair and makeup artists," he revealed, introducing the female duo, just as my eyes had rested upon the silver and lavender colored cosmetic cases each had within their possession. "It is lucky that their flight back to Marsily had been delayed a day, or else you would have to continue roaming about with that '_Shiner_' for God only _knows_ how long." (How ironic is that, when I was just joking to myself earlier about having my first princess lesson be about putting on makeup? Maybe I'm now suddenly psychic like Taranee -- Sort of. Hope not. Couldn't handle that type of trauma of possibly knowing what others _really_ think of me.)

"Uh . . . hi," I said weakly as I ignored Eli's vague insult, feeling uncomfortable as the twins continued to eyeball me with their piercing ice blue eyes (Yes, the same as Ernest's. So now I'll have triple the shivers whenever I have to look at either he or these women again in the future), as though surveying a canvas they were about to breathe life into (which, I guess, if they are hair and makeup artists and Eli clearly wanted to cover up my bruise, I was just that). "Can't this possibly wait until after I _eat_ something, or not happen at _all?_ I mean, all I need is some peroxide and a bandage. _Plus_, I'm not really big on the whole putting on makeup thing -- I have _zero_ patience for that."

"Oh, don't you worry, your highness! Malvina and I aren't considered one of the best within our field for _nothing!_" the tall supermodel-like chick on the right said with confident reassurance, grinning at me with obvious excitement to get started.

"_Absolutely!_ 'Belle and I have never had one unsatisfied client yet, and despite your proclaimed distaste for cosmetics, princess, even _you_ will be pleasantly surprised at the results once we are finished!" Mabelle's twin sister next to her, Malvina agreed with a nod and smile of her own before advancing upon me. "Now! Let's first clean up this unfortunate cut of yours before anything else!"

"Wait! I mean, can't --"

"-- I will just leave you ladies to it, then. I shall return within an hour's time, Wilhelmina, to _finally _begin our lesson, as this set back has already cost us some very important time," Eli said with a slight wave of his hand, before excusing himself from the room with his guards in tow, who'd closed the grand double doors after him.

_3:45 pm. - 5:45 pm._

_Early Dinner with King Elisud_

As if I wanted to actually_ be_ there with the man, let alone _eat_ with him.

And for _two hours?_

Cripes Almighty.

What's worse was that I couldn't even really enjoy the admittedly fantastic meal he had ordered to be prepared and sent up to the suite.

Why?

Because the _dinner_ had been the lesson. Well, "Part One" of my overall lesson, as Eli referred to it. Said that he and I had "our work cut out for ourselves, what with all of the various course of proper dinner conduct I have yet to go over with you. And you absolutely _must_ retain it _all_ if you wish not to offend any of your future dinner party hosts and guests."

So, now, if you can believe it, in addition to my _school_ homework, I actually have _princess_ homework!!! I am not even kidding here. Because Eli said that there was no possible way that I could remember every piece of information that he had taught to me all in one day. (Which he was right -- I _wouldn't _have. But not because it had been so much, which it really had been. But because it was _boring_ and I didn't _care_ to know any of it.)

So, here's the list print out he'd given to me to memorize and "be prepared to be quizzed upon by the next lesson," he informed me, after he made me actuate each thing while seated at the same table from before, with the would-be-yummy food and nervously expensive dishes:

_Essential, Universal Table Manners for Royalty and Common Folk Alike _

(Nice title, there. _Not_.)

**- ****PROPER UTENSIL UNDERSTANDING AND USAGE  
**

**§ Dinnerware §  
**

● Server plates are the main dinner plates to be used for the main course.

_ (Um. Duh?)_

● The large dish set directly beneath the server plate is referred to as the charger. It is meant purely as decoration and not intended to function as an extra plate to hold food. The charger is primarily removed before the first course is served.

● Salad plates are to be placed upon the center of the server plate when in use, and to the left (at about nine o'clock) of the server plate when not.

_ (Fat chance of that one happening, since I don't really like salad so much. I mean, I can and will eat it if I have to or there's maybe some chicken in it. But don't expect me to eat it religiously, people.)_

● Bread plates are to be placed to the left of the main plate (at about eleven o'clock). When offered a dinner bread roll, one must place said roll directly onto the bread plate. If placing butter onto the roll, one must take the butter from the butter dish and place onto the bread plate. DO NOT PLACE IT DIRECTLY ONTO THE BREAD.

_ (Clearly Eli had made sure that that last bit was all in caps, because I'd gotten scolded for several times for it during my "practice dinner." I kept on taking the butter from the dish, and then put it directly onto my roll. The way I see it, that's cutting out the "middleman," you know? Who cares if it's more respectful or whatever to put the butter glob you've scooped out with your knife onto your bread plate first, before placing it onto your actual bread? If we all had our own way, we'd probably just dip the roll directly into the butter dish just like that, before cramming it into our mouths. Get over it, Eli.)_

**§ Stemware §  
**

● All stemware is to be placed to the right (at about one o'clock) of the server plate, and to be held by its stem (hence its name) when handled.

● The glass placed closest to oneself is the wine glass. If served various types of wine (red, white, or spritzer, for example), separate wine glasses shall be presented. This is to preserve and maintain the distinct and individual tastes of each wine.

_ (The hell? I don't drink. And wine's disgusting to me -- At least, the one I'd taken a sip from Mom's glass one time while we were out to dinner together. So I don't know why I would have to memorize this one.)_

● The (larger) glass placed closest to the server plate is the water goblet.

**§ Utensils §**

● When using silverware, one should always work from the outside moving inward toward the server plate.

● The smaller fork is the salad fork, and is placed furthest away from the server plate to the left. (Just as, conversely, the larger spoon is the soup spoon, and is placed furthest away from the server plate to the right.)

● The larger fork is the dinner fork, and is placed directly next to the server plate on the left.

●The dinner knife is placed directly next to the server plate on the right. When not in use, said knife should be placed on the edge of the server plate, with the actual blade always facing inward.

●If dessert is served, all appropriate dessert utensils (such as the smaller spoon, or teaspoon) are either placed above the server plate, next to the soup spoon, or served with the actual dessert. (If concern for this arises, observe the host or hostess's actions to see where he or she places the utensils.)

_ (Isn't that wonderful? Several chances for me to make a fool of myself.)_

**- ****SOCIAL CONDUCTIVITY AND MAINTENANCE**

● The napkin cloth should be placed upon one's lap. However, do not do so until the host or hostess does. This act signals the commencement of dinner.

● Both hands must be above the table at the same time. They cannot and must not be below the table even if clasped together.

● Keep elbows close to one's own body so as not to disturb those sitting on either side.

_ (If this really __is__ "universal table manners," then this rule has and __will__ also universally __fail__ just about everyone, regardless of "status," because this one's pretty hard to remember to do. And come on. I mean, I know it's not exactly a valid excuse, but I'm a __teenager__! I'm __supposed__ to slouch and put my elbows upon the table and all of that! Give me a break, all you future royal guests I might share a meal with, because you're going to get poked supreme by __my__ bony elbow, for sure.)_

● One must never speak within an excessively loud volume, and instead should only carry on and maintain conversations with those within close proximity at the table.

_ (Well since I'm generally shy by nature for the most part, __this__ one will be a breeze to remember to and not to do. But it will suck if I'm seated next to a pair of geriatric individuals who are either "excessively __boring__," or mumble while they talk and are hard of hearing. Because then I'll space out, and/or end up having to repeat my question of "Say that again?" over and over and more loudly than the last. In which case, I can't be faulted for it, right? If anything, I should be applauded for bothering to humor the old bitties in the first place. So, there.)_

● If at all possible, one should refrain from coughing or sneezing at the table.

● One's chair must never be tilted back while at the table, or at any other time.

_ (What am I, nine-years-old? Please.)_

● One must never slouch. Proper, straightened posture must be maintained at all times.

_ (My posture doesn't supremely suck, but sometimes it's hard work to keep your back straight "forever" while sitting down. So let's just go ahead and add this to the increasingly growing list of social offenses I'm already racking up.)_

● One must always ask for the host or hostess's permission to be excused before leaving the table, and wait until every guest present has risen from each of their seats to acknowledge one's departure. (Conversely, one must always rise from one's seat for those of higher status who might also excuse his or herself from the table.)

_ (So, wait. This one's a bit confusing. Since this is a royal manners list or something, I'm guessing that this one means that . . . if I have to pee or something, I obviously let whomever is in charge of the dinner party know that, "Hey, I gotta take a whiz." Okay. Get that. But then, because I'm a princess, which is one of the "up there in the world" rankings and crap, I guess, everyone will automatically have to stop eating, drinking, and talking, blah blah, and get up from their seats to watch me leave? And then, if like a queen or king is at the party, and they have to go, too, then I'm supposed to get up with everyone else, right? I think that's what that means. But what about everyone else? They just go, and we stay seated like no one cares? That's pretty messed up. And lucky too, actually. Because how embarrassing is that, to have everyone drop what they're doing and stand up, just because I couldn't control my bladder? I might as well hold up a banner that blatantly says "I AM NOW LEAVING TO EMPTY THE TANK" while I'm at it. Anyone want to trade "status" places with me?)_

● Always remember to say "Please" and/or "Thank you" whenever prompted or whenever necessary.

_ (I don't even know why this one's on the list. I may not be as prim and proper or something as Cornelia, for example, or whomever else, but I'm not some completely uncouth individual or what have you. Geez, this list is really lame so far, right?)_

● Always wait until the host or hostess has lifted his or her utensil to begin eating before doing the same.

● One must never make unbecoming noises while eating.

● One must never play with one's food or with table utensils.

_ (The only time I might "play with my food" is if I'm in a lousy mood, or am unsure of what the dish I'm being served is actually concocted of. So since I'll be forced to eat at a lot of fancy dinners in the future, with crap I've most likely never heard of let alone know from what it is made, I'll definitely be doing a lot of this, I'm quite certain.)_

● Always chew with one's mouth closed.

_ (Well, chuh. That one's pretty much common sense. That is, unless you're busy having a really excited conversation about some boy you thought was really hot. In which case, I think there should be forgiveness and exceptions.)_

● The fork(s) is(are) used to convey only solid food into the mouth.

● Eat soup noiselessly, with the side of the spoon, and lifted in movements away from the body rather than towards. If there is an excess of soup, gently slide the spoon upon and against the side of the bowl furthest away from oneself.

_(Better keep practicing this one, since I don't usually eat my soup with the side of my spoon, and lift it towards me rather than away. I don't see the big deal, but it apparently is. Oh, well.)_

● Refrain from eating food with one's fingers (unless said food happens to be customarily eaten with fingers, such as bread, for example).

_(Well, yeah. I know that, thanks.)_

● It is considered rude and offensive not to finish everything upon one's plate.

_(Now this one I might be in trouble with, since while I usually eat all of my food that I place upon my plate, sometimes I get full. It happens, you know? So now, if and when it happens while I'm at one of these fancy shindigs, the people are going to be like, "This princess deserves to be beheaded for such insubordination!" or something. Great.)_

● Ice should not be within one's wine. Wine is primarily served at the temperature at which it is meant to be enjoyed.

_(What part of "I don't drink" didn't you get? Stupid rule.)_

● Should one request more wine to be served, one's glass must first be emptied. If one has had enough to drink, some wine (about a quarter full) should remain within the glass.

_(Don't carrrrrreeeeee. Don't drrrrrriiiiiinnnnnnkkkkkk!!!!)_

● If one's meal is not yet completed, one should always place all cutlery to the sides of one's plate, at four o'clock and eight o'clock. This will illustrate to servers that they need not take it away just yet.

_(Four and eight o'clock, huh? At least I have always only been off by a few "hours," so to speak, since I usually place mine at three and nine o'clock. Then again, I usually eat foods that merely require the use of my hands or just a fork or spoon . . . or "spork." I'd probably get my fingers sawed off if I ever tried to walk into Eli's palace with one of those, let alone actually use one.)_

● If fruit is served as dessert, it is to be eaten with a fork and a knife. (If doubtful or concerned, observed the host or hostess's actions.)

● One should place all cutlery, parallel to one another, together within a vertical fashion at the center of your plate. This signifies to servers to come take it away.

_You_ just read the list._ I _had to _do_ it, _live _it, and still have to _learn_ every last one these preposterous rules. I'm going to have an _aneurysm_ before I've managed to succeed in doing so, I just know it.

_6 pm. - 8 pm._

_Social Mingling Etiquette _

I honestly didn't see the difference between dinnertime stuff and this social mingling thing. I mean, if I'm supposed to talk to people I'm seated next to, isn't that me already mingling?

I guess that wasn't enough or didn't count, because Eli had launched into how I, as a princess, am expected to interact with guests (regardless of whether or not I'm a fellow guest or hostess) and made me practice it with him (which wasn't fun).

So, yep. I have yet another list to know:

_Proper Princess Conduct _

_(Another nice title.)_

As a royal princess, it is expected that she should only shake hands with others if wearing gloves. She should never answer to her own name, as it is only acceptable that she answer when addressed correctly. (For example, she should only respond to someone if asked, "How is Your Highness this evening?")

_(Now that's just rude. I can't blatantly ignore someone if they're all, "Hey, Will! How's it going?" I like being called "Will." Not all this royal bullcrap.)_

**As a hostess: **When entertaining guests, a princess's choice in gowns should never be too luxuriant, with extravagant jewelery kept to a minimum. This act will decrease the chances of offending those who perhaps are not as wealthy.

_(Well, what the hell? I'm not wealthy, either, and I am a princess. And there is no way I will ever wear a gown, thank you very much. Marsily's just going to have to get used to a princess who wears jeans and a sweatshirt to dinner.)_

If a princess happens to disagree with her guests' views and/or opinions, she should politely change the subject, or smile demurely if unable to do so. (Notable topics of conversation that should be avoided include: Talking about oneself; talking about politics; and/or talking about another's various misfortunes.)

**As a guest: **As a princess, she is the guest of royal and prestigious honor to the dinner party. As such, it is important that she arrive on time, and leave at an acceptable hour.

As the most important female guest, she will be expected to enter the party directly after the host or hostess. (No one else should enter before her, as this would be considered disrespectful.)

_(So basically, I'm going to have all eyes upon me from the moment I get to the party, until I leave. This princess thing sucks more and more. Don't ever wish to be a princess, trust me.)_

**Regarding gentlemen:** A princess must never walk arm-in-arm with gentlemen-folk while in public (unless she might perhaps require assistance). However, she may do so with a female companion.

If passing a gentleman within a public sort of venue, a princess has the distinction of recognizing him or not if she so chooses. (It is, however, considered rude to ignore a man without exceptional cause.)

_(Yeah. This one would come in handy if I actually had any definite male admirers or anything.)_

_8:15 pm. - 9:15 pm._

_Supper with King Elisud_

Now _this_ had been about the only part of my lesson that I'd actually "enjoyed" more or less (besides my meager fifteen minute break, of course), because it was just a normal dinner.

That is, there was no "this is that fork, and that is this knife" lesson crap to deal with again. Just honest, regular (well, not so regular, considering it was dinner with a freaking king and such) dinner.

Only thing I _didn't_ really like was that I had to eat with Eli (who hadn't during that "early dinner" since it was part of my lesson).

And in _silence_.

How awkward is _that? _(Well, technically, it was my fault, really, because by then I was _super_ exhausted and _starving --_ And had admittedly forgotten and didn't care about any table manner rule he'd taught me, so I'm sure that I'd eaten like a "slob" within his eyes -- and so any and all of the "small talk" that he'd tried to make with me, I just brushed off and kept eating. Oh, well. Don't know if that offended or bothered him, and don't again, I don't care, since I'd kept my eyes focused upon my meal the entire time.)

_9:15 pm. - 9:45 pm._

_Dessert and Coffee with King Elisud_

What am I, forty-five-years old now? I very _rarely_ drink coffee, and to drink it so late within the evening? How was I supposed to get to sleep from all the caffeine now coursing throughout my system (although I clearly did not have any trouble with that later on, but still)?

I'll bet that was his plan. To make sure that I stay wide awake, and think of nothing but this princess stuff all night until I either went insane or had committed all of it to memory.

At least the dessert had been good, though. (Yep. Those chocolate covered orange peels I'd read was one of the specialties in Marsily. I'm surprised that I liked them. At least _that_ I could look forward to as an unfortunate resident of the country some day.)

_9:45 pm. - 10:15 pm._

_Review of first princess lesson, and presentation of Royal Time Log_

As if I _needed_ a verbal reminder of what I'd gone through that entire afternoon and evening, _or_ a physical one at that. At least I'm not alone, because Eli has one as well. A time log, I mean. (But of _course _he would -- Probably afraid that I'd lie about what we'd done or something. Even _if_ I did it wouldn't matter, because this whole grooming me to be someone I don't wish to become clearly means the _world _to the man. So therefore, he most likely has absolutely_ everything_ committed to memory.)

And then, after having presented the evil little purple book to me, Eli had asked that I take "great care of it, and bring it with you to each lesson."

As if I have a _choice?_

**_--- _**

And that was that. After my mom had read the time log to my first lesson, all she did was close and put it down, get up from her the table with her dish and coffee mug, placed it within the sink to soak and then came over to my side to surprisingly give me a hug (which nearly made me choke upon the last of my eggs).

Then she ended up apologizing once again for how my life is now turned upside down and so hectic, now that I have to deal with this _and _school (_and_, which of course she's unaware of, still being a Guardian of the Veil, and somehow _maintaining_ that position while _also_ keeping it separate from being a princess and vice versa), I didn't bother to say anything. I just let her finish her embrace and spiel before she left the kitchen, presumably for her home office to get a head start on work (as she usually does on Saturdays, while keeping Sundays free for us most of the time. Although _now_, I don't really think that we'd be great company for either one of us).

There was nothing I could have said in reply, anyhow. Nothing, anyway, that wouldn't have come out sounding like: "Don't feed me yet _another _'My heart is _hurting_ for you' ploy for this, woman, because it is and always _will_ be _your_ fault that my life is basically in shambles."

Even though it's how I obviously feel and what I firmly believe (at the risk of continually coming off "Drama Queen"-ish, as well as repetitive in the process), I just didn't see the _point_ in saying so (especially since I really don't like telling people off as I've said before, and I've been doing _overtime _with that lately. It's a bit deserved, yeah, but still). I'm pretty sure that she was well aware that I was thinking along those lines, anyway.

_Besides_, no amount of my rants, raves, and verbal attacks against my mother is ever going to change anything, nor what Eli wanted to do to me.

_He's_ the real "enemy."

And somehow, some _way_, I'm _going_ to take him down.

Shouldn't be _too_ hard, right? If I could take out Metamoor deviants, I can _certainly _take out a pompous, know-it-all (and not so innocent) Marsilian king.

But, whatever. Today is _my_ day, and first things first: I'm going to get dressed and head to the recreational center to make up for my massively and preciously lost swim time, and then also find my Coach Gracie to appease her.

Assuming that she hasn't cut me from the team, that is . . .

**-- End of Chapter Twenty Three  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Squee. I'm free from this chapter. Turned out being longer and more "detailed" and all that jazz than initially intended. I'd written it all in one shot, but then once I went back in to edit crap – most of which had taken place during "late hours" and I spaced out here and there, so don't point out stuff I might have missed or sadly don't make sense LoL – I ended up adding more. Made me tired re-reading it, because that was a lot of info for Will to cram into her head for her first lesson. Sucks to be her. LoL And I know a lot of you are really hating on Eli, but I find him amusing. LoL Oh, and before it's brought up, I'd gotten "help" from various sites and books and crap for it, since 1, I'm not a princess, and 2, while I'm not a slob and have great teachers within my 'rents, I don't memorize every rule for table settings and all that, either. LoL You guys had BETTER leave a million reviews for this chapter!! Please? LoL)**


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note:_ Better be because the bot e-mail alerts are down and slow again that I haven't gotten the platoon of reviews for twenty-three as I'd hoped...AHEM. LoL But yeah. Glad that the ones who'd read it thus far and reviewed enjoyed it. That's a relief, at least._

_Oh. And for __**Celestial Secrets**__'s benefit: No, Susan didn't read/see any mention of Guardian duties when she'd read the time log, because what YOU'D read (all that extra stuff in parentheses and italics) was Will's aftereffect comments and what she'd written into her diary (INCLUDING having re-written the time log info into her diary). Sorry if that might have confused anyone else. Also, Will didn't take down the time log notes. An assistant had done that while the lesson had transpired for both she and Eli for later on, etc. Again, I thought that had been obvious too, which is why I didn't write it in. And, one more thing Celestial had asked, either to "test" me or what have you, I don't know LoL But when one leaves the table and excuses oneself, the napkin is to be loosely folded and placed on either side of the server plate. Again, didn't mention that either because I figured that was universal knowledge, and I'm just so used to observing and doing the whole "prim and proper" table manners crap thanks to my 'rents (mainly my father, who's hardcore when it comes to proper manners LoL). LoL _

_There ya go!_

_Enjoy this (short/cute) chapter!  
_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in July 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Four**

**Saturday, November 4th, 1:04 pm,**

**Vandom Loft, My Bedroom**

Mom nearly went into _epic _shock a bit ago, at the sight of my bruise after I'd gotten out of the shower and passed by her in the hallway on my way back to my bedroom.

I had been _wondering _why she hadn't made a big deal about it earlier at breakfast, or asked questions about the makeup session with the Kalah Twins. (But I guess that part just seemed pretty normal to her in the business of my "royalism" -- As a lifelong princess, herself, I'm sure that she would obviously know better than I.)

But, then that's when I remembered that I'd never washed my face once I had gotten home, _nor _when I had woken up straightaway as I usually do, since I was so tired. And "M&M" (as I now call Malvina and Mabelle) must have _spackled_ on that makeup, because nothing had really smeared off of my face and onto my pillow during the night, nor revealed much (wound wise, I mean) when I'd looked at myself within the mirror later on. (No _wonder_ they're considered the "best in all the land" or whatever.)

It was actually pretty funny, though, watching Mom roughly spit from out of her mouth the cup of green tea she'd had within her hand like some sort of cartoon character.

. . . It just also _sucks_ that the scalding hot beverage had to land squarely within my _face_, of course, in the process.

Had to take yet _another_ shower, and apply even _more_ ointment upon my facial laceration (which _was_ beginning to feel a bit better, until it'd gotten liquidly caressed by the green tea, anyway).

Sometimes, I swear it feels as though I'm living a sitcom, or some twisted and backwards "funny" story that some person with no life is writing about.

And if this is the case, then I have_ you_ to "thank" for all of the crazy antics that you keep sadistically putting me through.

**-- End of Chapter Twenty Four  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Just a little poking fun at myself there, that last bit. LoL I like making funny and embarrassing things happen to Willie. Because it isn't happening to me. LoL Or, already has in the past when I was younger but thankfully never have to go through it again. Wee. LoL**

**Yep. Short chapter. Short on purpose since 23 had been so "long." 25 should be out by tomorrow.)**


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note:_ Quite a few of you have been a bit "displeased" with my lack of Will/Caleb interaction and romance, and wonder when/if it will "finally occur!!" I know. My apologies. But even though it's "already up to twenty-four chapters" as __**Kitsune6**__ pointed out to me in review, it's really, by reality's standpoint, actually more so around chapter 5 or 6, pace and progress wise. Plus, I hate doing romance, because I find it incredibly boring. Not that I suck at it. I just don't "thrive" off of it, as I do whenever I might do humor/action/drama, etc. Besides that, most romance stories I read on here are always so rushed and unsatisfying. So with mine, no matter what you guys say, I'm taking my time with it (because it's all mapped out within my head), if I still do it at all. It's more believable and far more enjoyable when the romance takes its time to develop in stories/movies, etc. So, yeah. I still love you. LoL_

_Enjoy.  
_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in July 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Five**

Holy crud. I'm not really sure. . . but I think that Eddie might actually know what's _really_ up with me and the whole Sprita being my cousin thing.

Well, Sprita being my cousin, with the inclusion of _Ernest_ now being my _uncle_, since he was with us at the time, as was the deal.

Forget it. Let me start over.

Okay, like I'd written in the previous entry, I was planning on going to the Rec Center to catch up on my swimming for Monday's meet, right? And I was so focused upon just having a good day for once, with me, myself, and I, that I honestly thought that Eli wouldn't spring Sprita and Ernest upon me since:

1. It was the weekend, and as far as I know, there aren't any princess lessons on those days (Thank _God!_), nor had he passed mention to "Hey! See you tomorrow for round number two!" or something.

2. I figured that _he'd_ figured that I'd just lounge around the loft "like a lazy loaf," as he'd probably call me.

And,

3. If _Mom's_ chick bodyguard (whose name is Tegan, by the way) wasn't going to be at her side today or wherever she'll happen to be later on, then why should _mine?_

_Fat chance_. For _both_ of us, which only made it a measly one iota less irritating.

Because, as soon as I walked out of my building with my sports bag slung upon my shoulder and full of my swimming attire and gear, there all three of them (Sprita, Tegan, and Ernest, that is) were, standing and waiting patiently for me.

Well, _my_ "protectors" had been waiting for me, while Tegan, on the other hand, had obviously been either waiting for whenever I decided to leave the loft and thus left my mom alone as a result, or whenever Mom happened to leave, herself.

I, of course, was thereafter feeling a bit out of sorts about the Gruesome Twosome's presence yet again, but I also didn't bother to protest. It _was_, after all, part of the agreement struck between stupid-face Eli and myself (I can't believe I just called him "stupid-face." How six-year-old of me.), and I _was_ going out into public.

But, come _on_: How's it going to look to everyone when I walk into the Rec Center with them (who both were wearing, yet again, the very same leather jackets and shades from the other day. That attire might have flown at school, but at a recreational facility, where most people there would either be half naked or adorned within casual wear? These two will look like they'd come to bomb the place.)? It's not exactly keeping eyes off me, now it is? _Especially_ once I started to practice my swimming techniques, since I'm a pretty excellent swimmer. (Not bragging or anything -- It's just mostly unanimous consensus, is all.)

And I'd said exactly that (The "how's it going to look" thing, not about my being a great swimmer) to Sprita and Ernest while on our way to the center in the limo, and the silence had become too unbearable for me.

"What would be the harm in letting me go it alone for a few hours? I mean, besides the potential firing, or demotion or whatever, what's the _worst_ that could happen?" I asked while idly tapping my foot upon the fancy carpeted limousine floor beneath us, while Ernest remained silent yet mindful as always, and Sprita (who seemed to be in much better spirits today, which, as a result, yet again caused her to enact her chameleon-like qualities) answered -- Although _this_ time, sans smiling.

"What could happen, Princess, is that there are a _plethora_ of ways that you could be harmed while there: You could get a muscle cramp within your legs and drown. Or, instead, someone who might wish to harm you, themselves, might be present and manage to fatally submerge you," she said within a very serious tone and look upon her face (that I could tell, anyway, even with the shades on).

Gee, thanks. Make me _more_ paranoid and nervous than I already was growing over all this.

That pretty much shut _me_ up for the rest of the ride, and just about made me afraid to go at all. But I had a team and coach whom I could not let down, as well as a meet to (try to) win on Monday.

So when the three of us got there to the Rec Center (parking a few blocks away again, of course), I swiftly instructed S & E (Too lazy to write out their names over and over. Sue me.) to "keep your distance and play it cool."

I needed my absolute concentration, and so worrying about how to effectively expect whatever mishap one of both of them might have gotten me into next was not an option.

Thankfully, though, they seemed to understand and swiftly obeyed, and had gone to sit within the bleachers of the relatively empty swimming area, while I went to (successfully) locate Coach Gracie within the locker room and explained my latest disappearing act and unfortunate flakiness.

Surprisingly however, she didn't seem upset at all. Turns out, a "little birdie" (a.k.a. My mother) had told her the whole story within the same day that I'd been sick, (Something about how in addition to my sickness, I was currently going through a "rough patch within the family" lately -- _Understatement._) and so understood.

Said that even though I'm one of the most important people on the team, and this meet _was _pretty important, she (Gracie) was prepared to let someone else take my spot if I still wasn't feeling up to it in "light of recent events," she'd added. "Besides though, you're very rarely absent from practice, so I'd had a feeling that if you suddenly _weren't_, then there had to be a pretty good reason," she'd finished with a playful shove to my shoulder before I left the locker room to go practice.

And _that's _when Eddie showed up.

Well, after I'd been swimming for over an hour and a half, anyway, and managed to regain my confidence of claiming possible victory in less than two days, as well as also having lost my stress over everything related to my tyrannical uncle.

But then suddenly, as I made it to the other side of the pool after finishing my last lap of breaststrokes and lifted my head out of the water to breathe, I hear someone go,

"Looking _good_, Will! Now I _really_ feel sorry for Sutterville come Monday."

Startled, I look up, and see Eddie (who, admittedly, was looking very -- Okay, _extremely _yummy within his khaki colored swim trunks that provided a nice complexion offset to his mocha skin and rippling muscles. . . Too bad that he seems to want only Irma, because then maybe I _could_ take a crack at him as a "rebound," in case I never get my chance with Caleb -- Which I'm sadly and profoundly sure that I _won't_ at this point) smiling warmly down at me.

And, as always, with him on both sides, were his two male bodyguards (who apparently were major fishes out of water, no pun intended, more than mine were while within the Rec Center -- Even more so than they normally were at school. You know, because of the whole casual attire I'd stated several paragraphs ago. Maybe if they'd wear something else besides their usual dark bluish suits they'd donned everywhere they went with Eddie, then they'd stand a better chance to fit in. Oh, well).

_Anyway_, I immediately turned my head to look at S & E and tried to flash them a look that would hopefully say something like, "Do _not_ overreact by thinking Eddie's a stalker or terrorist" or whatever, and then thus try to shoot him, or tackle him into the water to drown _him_ instead.

Astonishingly enough, though, they merely continued to sit within their seats upon the bleachers, presumably watching me. (Once again, with those shades on and also from that distance, you never can tell.)

"E-_Eddie! _U-uh, _hi!_ How's it going?" I gushed out with obvious fluster, accidentally splashing some water onto the strapping young billionaire within the face as he crouched down before me and when my arms flailed around as a result of said fluster.

God. It really, and seriously_ is_ a wonder that I'm actually successful with being a "warrior," the way I'm increasingly clumsy and all over the place, I proclaim within this journal _yet_ again.

Can you just_ imagine _if me and the girls had a current Guardian mission to tend to, at the same time that all of this princess and keeping secrets crap is going down?

_Needless_ to say, it'd be a suicide mission on _all_ of our parts, since I wouldn't be able to keep it together.

Hmm. Maybe since I only have one more swim meet after the one on Monday before the season's over (due to the increase in cold weather, etcetera) and thus more free time (Ha. _Right_.), I'll sign myself up for that Winter Yoga course that's always offered here every year.

Couldn't hurt.

But, yeah. Back to the major situation at hand.

So, Eddie's busy lightly wiping his face clear of the pool water I'd unintentionally flicked at him, and is chuckling his deep throated laugh that makes the ladies melt to hear whenever able and such, and then kindly extends both of his arms out to me to help me out of the pool.

"T-thanks," I said softly within a mixture of embarrassment and growing nerves, letting go of Eddie's strong grip and began to dry myself off with my towel that I'd laid down nearby.

"No problem," Eddie replied with a renewed smile, taking a seat next to me and mimicking my actions of having replaced my feet back into the pool while continuing to towel dry myself. "So, how are things? I've noticed that this week hasn't exactly been the most. . . '_fluent,_' I guess you could say, for yourself."

I stopped drying off and gazed at him with a perplexed look at this. Now, mind you, I wasn't yet suspicious or worried that he might know what's actually been going on with me lately at this point. I was just honestly confused by what he'd meant by "fluent."

"Huh? What do you mean?" I asked with a raised eyebrow, setting down my towel at the same time that Eddie turned around to lightly wave a dismissive hand to his bodyguards (whom I'd honestly forgotten were still hovering directly behind us) before responding.

How respectful of the young lad. Didn't wish to embarrass me, what he'd planned on saying next. (Like it _mattered_, since his "goons" were with him 'round the clock as mine now are, so it isn't as though they weren't personally aware, themselves, of the recent chaos and debacles I've been going through.)

". . ._You_ know," Eddie started within a gentle voice as he leaned in closer to me and his "crew" walked away to the set of bleachers on the other side of the pool. (Not where mine were seated, no.) "First, there was your. . . tumble within my mansion during my ball on Halloween -- Which I feel _tremendously_ apologetic for. That I was not present in order to help you, and that I haven't extended any kind of sympathies for it until now. But I was still busy tending to last minute details at the ball's beginning, and you and I don't have any classes together, so I very rarely see you on campus. But I guess that's still no excuse, since I do consider you to be a friend of mine, after all."

I was wholeheartedly shocked, yet touched by this. . . "admission," I suppose you can say. Not for Eddie's being sorry that the fall I was just about successful in blocking out had happened to me. But that he viewed me as an actual friend.

I mean, I never thought that he saw me as vapor or just "One of the many friends of Irma, his beloved" or anything. And we did occasionally speak to one another if ever the situation arose to do so. But I always honestly just viewed the two of us and our relationship (or lack thereof) to be more of the acquaintance variety more than anything else.

And I'd told Eddie just that after he'd finished speaking.

He only laughed politely upon hearing it. (Rich, cute, down to earth, _and_ very well mannered. Tell me again why Irma has zero interest in him?)

"Really? I've got to say that I'm a bit hurt that you've only ever seen me as just some rich kid who went to your school, Will. And here I'd always seen us as close as _family_ or something," he jested with a grin, lightly tapping my still slightly moist bare shoulder.

"Wait, what? _No!_ I never said --! I mean, I _don't_ just see you as 'the rich kid' or anything like that! I just --" I stammered a bit in rejuvenated abashment, turning my body a bit to face the green eyed model-in-training seated next to me more properly.

"-- _Relax_, Will. It was just a joke," Eddie assured me with another smile and pat to my hand. "I completely understand. I do. But, really, though. It'd be really nice if you and I could hang out more often -- _Especially_ now, in light of recent events. . ."

Yes, now. _Now_ was when I began to feel a bit apprehensive and curious of Mr. Benoni.

I felt my body and gaze pivot towards the (thankfully) still patiently seated Sprita and Ernest, before returning my attention back onto Eddie and asked,

". . .'Recent events?' What do you mean by _that_, now? What, you mean when I was sick? Oh, that was nothing. Just came and went, just like _that!_" I forced a chuckle of my own after snapping my fingers to illustrate the swiftness that my illness had dissipated.

I knew (and obviously so did Eddie) that it wasn't at all to what he'd been referring, but I still wanted to do as much deflecting as possible.

Sadly, however, it was a no go, because Eddie just shook his head and with a faint smile, made a brief and discreet gesture towards my two bodyguards.

". . .No. I meant. . . your '_cousin_' over there," he said with a faint but still present skepticism laced within his deep voice. "And let me guess. . . The new guy with her is your '_uncle_' or somebody, right?"

For someone who never regularly saw me while on campus as pointed out earlier within our conversation, Eddie sure was still up to date with the latest news, apparently. Then again, word usually doesn't take long to travel within the walls of Sheffield High.

Surprised a bit, I'd taken longer than I would have liked to respond to my friend-apparent's observational inquiry. I'd never actually thought of what foolproof excuse to concoct in regards to Ernest (although "uncle" was obviously what I was going to lean towards, as illustrated at the start of my entry). But calling my uncle wasn't _that_ bad, although it'd be a bit weird and inexplicable if anyone I knew saw him constantly with me the way Sprita was, as well.

I mean, how many late teenagers (Hell, teenagers, _period_) do _you_ know of who habitually hang out with their uncles absolutely everywhere they go?

This was something I'd have to work on. Until then, I _still _had to deal with the possible road block at hand.

And so, traveling back to the present, I just swiftly answered with "Yes, that's exactly right!"

To which, unfortunately, Eddie seemed to be prepared I'd say, because _he_ replied with,

"Uh huh. . . So you must be a pretty close-knit family, for first your cousin to be with you all over school, and now both she _and_ your. . . uncle, was it? Yeah, your uncle too joins you here while you practice your swimming?"

And _now_, dear journal, was when Eddie ceased in making me nervous, and merely made me more so _pissed_ off, admittedly. I'm sure it wasn't his intention, of course, but I've had it up to here with the constant interrogation from everyone around me.

Was I really always _this_ intriguing and popular all along and obviously never realized it until now, that _any_ sort of change within my life has to be explained to all of _existence?_

Without warning, I'm suddenly now exploding at poor, innocent Eddie.

"Is it a _crime_ or something to actually be close to your relatives? And if you know so much about them, apparently, then you'd _also _know that Sprita's with me at school everywhere because she's trying to get used to it before enrolling,_ herself!_ Does _that_ satisfy your nosy tendencies, just like everyone _else's??_"

I immediately slapped a hand over my mouth after I'd let out my outburst at the now taken aback Eddie, and unfortunately succeeded in capturing the attention of a few passersby, in addition to causing both sets of bodyguards to begin to advance towards us.

Oops.

"Oh. . . uh, I-I'm _so_ sorry, Eddie. . . I just. . . I've been under _a lot_ of pressure lately, that's all," I apologized weakly after having lowered my hand away from my lips, and blindly waved a hand at Sprita and Ernest behind my back to hopefully get them to at least stop advancing if not go back to their seats.

Amazingly, however, Eddie didn't seem the slightest bit upset. Just smiled faintly and nodded at me in understanding.

"It's. . . all right, Will. . . _I_ used to blow up at anyone who'd ask _me_ what was the deal with Celso and Guerino always following me around when I was younger and just trying to fit in," he revealed with a growing smile, before gesturing towards his protectors who'd both returned to his side. (So _that's_ what their names are. I honestly never bothered or thought to ask. At least now it makes future entries that might involve them easier and less confusing for me, instead of just always calling them bodyguards, bodyguards, _bodyguards_. I definitely need a bigger, and _better_ Thesaurus.)

And _yes_, again, here is where the anger had vanished and the wariness had returned to full capacity. Because while what he was saying was true, I suppose, since I _was_ lying and saying that Sprita and Ernest are my relatives, it didn't really make sense for Eddie to say.

And I'd called him on it.

"Well, no. . . I think it _does_ make sense and apply here, Will," Eddie countered after I'd spoken, suddenly getting a sort of twinkle within his eye and a broader simper upon his creamy mocha visage before continuing. ". . .Because they're _not_ really your cousin and uncle. . . _are_ they? And you _don't_ have to lie anymore -- At least, not to _me_, that is. I mean, after all, if _anyone_ would understand it'd _have_ to be me, right?"

Now, I was thinking to myself, _Should I continue to try to buffalo him, or take a chance and let one more person know what's going on as I had with Matt?_

_Then_ I started to think, _If I do, since it's clear he's not about to drop it, who said I have to be completely forthright? I can just say that I'm now like him, a billionaire or whatever. _(Which I guess wouldn't be a _complete_ lie, I don't think. Royalty _are_ rich, right?)

So, taking a deep breath, I slowly shook my head, which caused Eddie to smile once more, this time in satisfaction.

"Ah_ ha!_ I _knew_ it! But that's only because I obviously live through such things on a day to day basis. But I think you're still safe with everyone_ else_, as far as them believing that those two are your relatives. . . and _not_ your _bodyguards_, right?" he delicately concluded, leaning towards me again to be on the safe side.

I exhaled and nodded deplorably, while pulling off my swim cap to gently scratch away an itch that was plaguing my scalp.

"Yeah. . . But you have to _swear_ that you won't say anything to _anyone!_ I'm _serious_, Eddie," I pleaded, squeezing his strong arm with both of my hands.

"Don't _worry!_ I _won't_, all right? I _won't_. I know how ostracizing it can feel to be. . . well, more well off than others around you. But, hey. At least _you'd_ lucked out. I didn't really have anyone to confide in when I was younger to help cope with it all. So at least now, _you're_ not alone, because you have _me_ to talk to if ever things get too insufferable -- _That's_ why I'd extended the invitation to come visit me again at the mansion or something some time if you ever wanted to," he said politely, while gently wrenching his arm free from my vice-like grip and placed my hand into his to squeeze in turn to show his sincerity.

Well, hey. At least he only seems to surmise that I now have my own protection because someone within my immediate family suddenly "struck gold" or something. That works out just fine for me.

_Keep_ thinking that, Edwin, my new ally. Better that than the full truth.

And, yeah. After having swallowed my heart back into my chest and forced myself to make a few moments of small talk thereafter, Eddie had excused himself to fit in a few laps, himself, before leaving.

Fine by me.

Now that I was at least caught up and done with _my_ practice, I desperately needed a _personal _breather. I still think that I need to be on my toes around Eddie, since, just because he didn't say anything about it, it doesn't mean that he didn't have a few hunches or what have you in relation to my being a princess.

For right _then_, however, I just needed a more private (or at _least_ less congested) place to mull over what had just happened, and what did it precisely mean for the future.

And there was only one place that I could think of that would provide just that.

**-- End of Chapter Twenty Five  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Bam. Knocked this bad boy out of the way. That is, finally got "unlazy" and typed it out, since I'd written it manually ages ago. LoL Oh, and by the way, as a future note and head's up, etc: The next few chapters, most likely right up to chapter thirty, will be pretty fast-paced and informative/progressive at the same time. That is, most of the things some of you have been wondering and asking about will/will not occur, and extra stuff you hadn't wondered about. LoL Just trust me! I've got this story and its direction pretty much secure and set for another twenty chapters or so. Don't know what chapter it will end on when I finish it, but I do know that I'm still at the tip of the iceberg, despite it being twenty-five chapters thus far. It's only that much because of the mini-chapters, or journal entries, rather, that Will's included. But otherwise, I'm at the right pace and progression for this story. So yeah. Trust me! Yay! LoL)**


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note:_ Silly me. Forgot to put the heading for the last chapter. I mean I had manually when writing in my notebook as I usually do for these chapters and other stories, but I was in a rush at the time that I'd started to type it up that I guess I forgot. And plus I was spacing out when I was editing it all last night too, so yeah. LoL Anyway, for those who might have realized that (which I doubt) and are curious to know where/when Will was when she'd written the last entry, it was around 3:15 pm or so, and she was inside of the limo again, on her way to where she is now in this entry. Okie? Yay. LoL But yeah. A bunch of you are now just as wary of Eddie as Will was/kinda is. I honestly didn't think you'd all perceive it that way while reading it. That is, take Will's side with the make him a suspect stuff. I thought of two ways you might have viewed it, and so far no one's brought it up. Cool. What else. . . That's it, I guess._

_Enjoy._

* * *

This chapter was created/written in August 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Six**

**Saturday, November 4th, 4:33 pm**

**Heatherfield City Hall Park**

I was _wondering _why Eddie hadn't asked about my "Shiner" back at the Rec Center while he and I had been conversing, and it was because I still had my goggles on the entire time, I later realized after I was changing within the locker room to leave.

Oops, and oh well.

Then again, neither had _Gracie_, but maybe Mom had phoned ahead and told her about it? I don't know.

And _another_ "then again" here, I also wasn't _really_ wondering about it at all, truthfully (in regard to Eddie, I mean), since I was so concentrated upon whether or not I should list him as "friend" or "foe" at the time. For now, I've decided to keep him within the "gray area," and after a few days, if nothing happens (like mischief or something) at his hand, _then _I'll place him within the "friend" column. (He really _doesn't_ honestly come off to me _as_ the vindictive type, and not to mention that to do so against _me_ would most _definitely_ blow any and _all_ chances he'd ever have with Irma, as well, so yeah.)

But, yeah. Anyway. I'm sorry. I'm babbling right now, which I can't believe is possible to do within a journal, since technically, the use of the word "babbling" is traditionally reserved for _verbal _communication, and -- _God!_ I must be _really _nervous about my latest plan if I'm getting all "scientific" about the proper conductivity of words and phrases utilized within the English language!

You're losing it, Will.

No. No, I'm not. Well, not anymore. Well, maybe, but hopefully as soon as Matt gets back to my house and we do what I've set out to do, then --

_Bleh_. Rambling again. It's a good thing that no one actually _reads_ this journal, or else they'd find it _extremely_ hard to follow sometimes.

Okay, see, remember how I said that I needed privacy, and I didn't really know where within this town that I could achieve that any longer, since the girls have been nipping at my heels for the longest now (Which I feel beyond guilty for, avoiding them and keeping them in the dark and such. But I'm sure that after I do what I plan to do, maybe they might understand. Or, well, they would if ever I planned to tell them about it. Whatever. Ignore me.), I have S & E eternally at my side (Which is _another_ feat that will be a bit tricky to overcome with this plan of mine, by the way, but I'm sure I can manage. . . I think.), and home is a _major_ No-No at all times now?

Yeah, well, I _also_ remembered that there _was _at least _one_ place that I could go, that provided fresh air (since it was out in the open), yet also was secluded, deserted and thus private (and _perfect_) for me:

Heatherfield City Hall Park.

Why? Because ever since that giant scare that went down here about three years ago, the entire town now believes this area is _haunted_.

Well, the _young_ people believe that it's haunted (and maybe a few senile individuals as well), while the political and financial investors just mainly no longer view this area as profitable (since no one in their right mind will dare to venture around here much if they can avoid it anymore -- Day or night).

What _was _the big panic, you ask?

It was _our_ fault, I guess. (Me and the girls, I mean.)

Well, no, _technically_, it had been idiot, "Lizard-Boy" (as mainly Taranee and Cornelia would refer to him as on occasion) Lord Cedric's fault mostly, since at the time he was busy trying to steal birth certificate documents of girls who might have been born around the time that Elyon had been (so that he could then bring them back to Metamoor to show to stupid Prince Phobos, who could in turn succeed in finding his long lost sister to then later usurp her God given powers, I guess you could say, and then eradicate her thereafter, blah blah. I only say "blah blah" at the risk of sounding callous, because we Guardians obviously had succeeded in foiling those plans _ages_ ago -- As if there ever was a doubt. . . Well, _maybe_ some doubt. But still. _We_ won, and _they_ suck).

And on the day (well _night_, by that point) of my _birthday_, no less. It figures.

_Anyways_, but after our colossal (and also apparently rather loud, since the authorities had showed up later on) battle with Cedric, as well as his having been spotted within his "monster-form" by Uriah and his crew (who'd all taken a while to go back to their normal, _jerky_ selves after having seen him, I might add. But can't say that I blame them. Lord Cedric was always a bit intimidating to look upon at times), I guess the damage to the once prosperous City Hall building and surrounding park had been done.

The rumors began to spread, and one thing led to another, and now here I am, the only one "brave enough" to park myself. . . well, within the park.

I feel kind of bad, though, that because of our Guardian duties and "code of honor" or whatever to always look after and protect the world from devastation and all that (Now, why does that phrase sound familiar to me? Oh, yeah! That one anime I used to watch when I was younger always had the two bad guys say that as part of their "I'm gonna kick your ass!" speech. It's annoying to me now, but back then that show was pretty neat for me to watch.), this area's basically condemned now because of those false paranormal activity rumors.

But it isn't as though any of we Guardians can come forward and say, "Hey! It _isn't_ haunted! It was just the five of _us_, who are really 'magical girls,' by the way, defending this town from an evil soul who could transform into a _beastly_, serpent-like creature the likes of which you've _never_ seen!"

That doesn't_ exactly_ roll off the tongue.

So, I guess, for now, or until the town decides to get over their fears and put this abandoned area to good use once again, abandoned it shall remain (and be _my_ personal safe haven in the meanwhile. That is, unless one or all of the girls have a bad day and want seclusion for themselves, and get the same idea I do and come here while _I_ am, just my luck. But none of us have honestly bothered to come to this park since that time -- And, after we'd visited maybe once or twice later on to make sure that there weren't any extra portals that might have miraculously re-opened on their own and we'd obviously missed. Plus. the new park, Heatherfield Park -- Yes, the same one the girls had wanted me to hang out within with them yesterday after school, but I obviously couldn't because of my dear old Uncle Eli's interference -- is honestly closer to where all of us live).

So I_ think_ I'm all right.

At least, right _now_ I seem to be, since I honestly haven't seen or heard anyone pass through here or anything.

Well, except for _Matt_, obviously, but that was because he said he'd recognized the limo as it passed by his car while he was on his way home from a friend's house. I guess _I _had been so busy writing within my journal that I didn't even get to notice or see that, otherwise I probably would have told the driver to stop or something. (It's amazing that Matt _could_ recognize the limo, since to _me_, at least, all limousines look the same. Except, of course, when they're different colors, like the white ones and stuff. Thank _God_ mine isn't white. I think that would draw more attention than the black one already _might_. But I guess it's just mainly because Matt's very much into automobiles of all kinds, that he was able to recognize it, I don't know -- That, and probably because before mine, not that many limos were strolling through town lately. Wonderful. Anyway, maybe _Matt_ should ride in it instead of me from now on then, because _I_ have to for _forever _now, it seems, and I _still_ don't really know what it looks like inside and out, since most of the time I'm either blocking it out -- Riding within it, I mean -- or am busy writing within this journal while I am like I'd said.)

But yeah, so that's how Matt ended up being here at the park with me, after obviously tailing me.

While I wasn't _super _adverse to seeing him, I still really _did_ wish to be alone, you know? Well, as alone as I _could_ be with the driver, Sprita and Ernest still hanging about. But given the choice (That is, if being _completely_ solo wasn't an option), I'd _much_ rather have _Matt_ with me than _those_ three any day.

_Plus_, S & E seem to "trust" him by now, so it didn't seem to be _that_ big a deal that he'd followed us and came to "visit with me" as he'd put it, when he'd caught Ernest's kind of stern glance at him after having taken off his sunglasses for a few seconds to clean them. (If I had been Matt, I would have done an about-face and ran back to my car if Ernest had looked at _me_ like that, what with those creeptacular icy blue eyes of his. But Matt only grinned lopsidedly at him. Either he had sensed, before I had even told him, that something was bugging me again, or he just isn't afraid of Ernest as the reason he hadn't left, I don't know.)

So, right. After we'd forced small talk before then managing to get S & E to give us some more space and privacy, I spilled the beans to Matt about what had happened back at the Rec Center.

Needless to say, he wasn't at all impressed, _or _surprised, which wasn't what I wished to hear, because I knew that he'd just lecture me _yet_ again to help continue fulfilling his role as my "older brother."

And that's exactly what he did.

"_God!_ What did I _tell_ you, Will? _Didn't_ I say that eventually more and more people would start to 'sniff around' you, and no longer buy into your 'Oh, this is my extended family!' routine story for 'Boris and Natasha' over there? The people of Heatherfield are _not _as doltish as you might obviously perceive them to be, hon," Matt scolded within a calm voice, but nonetheless carried a light frown upon his face while the two of us continued to walk slowly, side by side and further into the empty park.

I exhaled heavily at this.

"_Cripes_, Matt! I never said or _thought_ that Heatherfield is a town full of _idiot_ people! If _anything_, it's a town full of obsessed _busybodies_ in contrast," I vainly tried to joke, folding my arms across my chest after catching Matt's "I am _not_ amused" glare. "And _anyway_, who _says_ that everyone _has_ to know _everything_, anyhow? It's none of their business."

"Maybe not _yet_, but it's _going_ to be the entire world's business sooner or later, Will, like I've told you already. Haven't you realized yet that secrets and lies don't help nor solve anything? I would like to think that _you_ of all people would have _gotten_ that memo by now," the tall brunette chastised tiredly, lightly scratching the stubbles of his goatee that he usually had upon his otherwise smooth face.

"Yeah, _okay!_ I _get_ it! Thanks for only making me feel _worse_, 'Dr. Phil!'" I exclaimed, throwing my arms into the air and quickening my pace to walk ahead of my friend. "But you have no _idea_ what it's like to be _me_ right now! Having to assume_ three_ identities at _once! _Will Vandom, the _semi_-normal teenager who will probably fail out of high school due to all of the _emotional stress_ she's now_ buried_ and _suffocating_ under, so it's a good thing that she's decided to take a year off after graduation before beginning college! Will Vandom, the Keeper of the Heart of Candracar and leader of the Guardians of the Veil, _also _known as 'W.I.T.C.H.' And now, stupid _Wilhelmina_ Vandom -- No, _excuse _me, _DeMontaimont_, Princess of _Marsily_, a stupid freaking country she's never even _heard _of before now, and is expected to _rule_ over it!"

I could hear Matt suddenly stop walking behind me after my rambling and slight outburst.

". . .Feel better now?" he asked gently, a detectable smile sounding within his voice as he spoke.

I stopped walking too and slowly nodded without turning around to face him.

"_Honestly?_ Yeah, a little bit," I answered meekly, blushing a bit. "But _saying_ it and letting it all out _still _won't change anything."

"No, maybe not, but at least it's a start," Matt replied, moving to my side once more, before beginning to gently rub my back. "_That's_ why you were probably better off telling Eddie the whole truth. Who knows? Maybe he knows already, but wanted _you _to tell him. I mean, he, _himself,_ is pretty well known throughout the world, just about, and so _obviously_ has that whole 'great connections' thing going on. Maybe someone had tipped him off. Plus, I'm also pretty sure that his family has done business once or twice with Marsily in terms of import and exports. So --"

"-- _God!_ I didn't even _think_ of that! B-but, I mean. . . What would be his agenda for _not _outing me right then if he really _does _know? I honestly don't really think he's trying to play mind games with me. . ." I said weakly, trying to reassure myself, as _well_ as sooth the growing nausea I was beginning to feel churning within my stomach.

Matt shrugged lightly while continuing to caress my back, a bit harder now. (I guess to assist in my trying to calm myself down faster).

"And_ I_ honestly don't think he is, either. Like I said, maybe he _does_ know. But maybe he _doesn't_. _Either_ way, he's clearly going to respect you and not say a word until after its known to the masses, regardless. I hang out with him on and off, especially at the gym, and he strikes me as a face value kind of person. That is, how we've all perceived him, as the wealthy, but surprisingly an 'everyday' type of person is pretty much how he really is," he revealed, patting my back twice for good measure before dropping his arm back to his side. "Plus, it'd be pretty foul for him to put you within a position of public scrutiny, when he himself is no stranger to it, you know? So I think that you're safe."

Taking a few deep, "cleansing breaths," managing to relax myself in the process, I resumed my walking with Matt following suit.

". . .True. I _guess_. . . _Truthfully_, though, I'm not really worried so much about Eddie. _Mainly_ because he's not my best friend. . ." I trailed off, semi-hinting to Matt what I was getting at, which he clearly was all too aware of what I was.

"No, that he is _not_, your _highness_," he said with a small smile, which earned him a slap to his arm courtesy of yours truly. "Okay, _okay_. I'll lay off the royal addressing. But, seriously, if even _your_ psyche is finally catching up to the fact that you _have_ to tell Taranee and the others everything once and for all -- and _fast_ -- then you_ know_ that it's been _far_ too long in the making."

"_Ugh_. . . I know. I _do! _I've _always_ known," I admitted with a groan, burying my face within my hands a moment. "But can you _imagine_ how it's going to be? I can just see it now: Taranee will be supportive, most likely, and then _also _offer as many cons as she can_ think_ of, as well as a side plate of _extra_ paranoia that I _don't _need, to what being a princess will now mean for me. _Irma_ and _Hay Lin_, however, will both probably think it's 'really cool' and joke about wanting my autograph now or whatever, and think of mostly all of the _pros_ in combat against 'Ranee's _cons,_ of how I'll get free stuff all the time or something like that. And then, _Cornelia_. . . Eh, I don't really want to go there."

"Yeah, good point," I could hear Matt smirk in consensus, before he continued. "But, _really_, though, if you _already_ know so well of how it will most likely go down, then why _not_ just take the plunge and _do_ it? If anything, _you_ of all people would know your best friends and 'Earth and Universe-protecting comrades' better than anyone else currently within existence -- And that's _including _their families, even."

_Another_ good point. Still. . .

"Yeah, I _guess_," I responded with another sigh, turning my head to look at my sole male best friend. "But, I just mainly wish there was a way that I could tell them and let them know, without actually having to do it, _myself_, you know?"

"I suppose, yeah, but then again, that's how _everyone_ feels whenever they have to tell something they usually only _believe_ is difficult but isn't really, to someone they care for," Matt said with a small nod, before wrapping his arms around me to give me one of his patented Bear Hugs I adore so, and then gave me a small, brief yet still tender kiss atop my head. "And it isn't as though you have anyone else who could possibly understand what it's like to be in your shoes at the moment, which is all the more reason why it's just better that you confess to the people whom you can rely upon. It _will_ be all right, okay? Just tell them as soon as you can, before they find out from someone else, or things get out of hand. That, _and_ because I'm not lying for you anymore. Besides sucking terribly at it, you have _no_ idea the torture those friends of yours had subjected me to yesterday after you and Sprita had_ ditched_ me and fed me to the _wolves_."

And _that's_ when it had hit me.

My plan, I mean.

While I was giggling at imagining the millions of questions I'm sure the girls had fired poor, defenseless and ill-prepared Matt's way (and what horrible excuses I'm sure he'd obviously managed to come up with to deflect said questions for my sake), I let out a sharp gasp as I gazed up at him with widened eyes. (Which I'm sure scared the crap out of him to witness.)

"W-_what?_ You okay?" Matt asked with a bit unsureness, slowly releasing me from his embrace.

I just grinned at him happily, feeling extremely ecstatic and "smart" for the new idea that was brewing within my mind at that moment.

"I'm _better_ than okay! Because _you_, my dear, _dear_ 'partner in crime,' have given me an idea on what move to make _next!_" I exclaimed excitedly, jumping up and down like a little child.

Matt stared at me like I had four heads just then, and scratched the top of his brown colored head in confusion.

". . .I don't follow. All I said was to tell the girls the truth as soon as possible -- Like, preferably _today_ would be nice. I thought _that _was the 'plan,'" he said with a perplexed air, searching my face for answers. "And hey, when, where and _how_ did you get that ol' _Shiner_ on your face?"

Wow. Like, twenty minutes into our "visit" and conversation, and it was only _now_ that Matthew had noticed my slightly dissipating but still pretty visible bruise upon my cheek.

And I thought that_ I_ was sometimes slow on the uptake.

Oh, well.

I merely waved my hand in dismissal at this and continued to smile like mad at the older individual before me.

"_Never mind_ that! Just_ listen!_ You said that there isn't anyone I know of currently who could possibly and _completely_ understand what I'm going through right now -- At least, no one who could or would, and I'd care to _confide_ within about this, anyway, as both my mother and lousy uncle are definitely out of the question," I began as slowly as I could so that Matt could keep up, while trying to control my giddiness.

". . ._Eeeyeah_. . . So?" he asked, just as slowly, clearly not yet catching on. That is, until -- "_Wait_, a minute! You don't mean --"

"-- Uh huh! I _do!_ And _you're_ coming with me, since I know you'd just ask to later on, _anyway!_" I interrupted, clasping my hands together in satisfaction that I'd finished my thought.

Now it was _Matt's_ turn to cradle his face with his hands upon hearing this.

_Regardless_, though, I knew that deep down, he was now a bit intrigued and just as excited about it as I was.

Sure enough, as he released his face from his hands' obscuring placement, he looked at me with a tiny, but growing smirk upon his face, before looking over my head to gaze upon Sprita and Ernest, who were still lurking several yards away.

". . .All right,_ fine_. I'll come. But you _do _know it _will_ be a waste of time, otherwise -- I mean, for the _reasons_ that you wish to go and do this at all. _Plus_, how do you expect to get out from under your 'Royal Posse's' watchful eye?"

"Leave that to me," was I'd said to Matt as a reply, before shooing him towards his car and telling him to meet me back at my loft in about half an hour.

So now, here I am, hanging out a bit while longer within the park and sitting on one of the benches, finishing up this entry and honestly trying to figure out how I will shake off S & E as I'd mentioned towards the beginning of said entry.

I mean, I imagine that if I just tell them that I'm going to stay in for the rest of the day and just do homework and relax later and stuff, then I don't, for the life of me, know why they'd be required to stay with me at the loft. Maybe guard the _outside_ of it or something, but not the_ inside_.

And anyway, if they _do_ decide guard the outside of the building, _that'd_ be just fine, because what I planned to do in just a little while after Matt meets me there, I won't _need_ to re-exit the outdoors in the process.

Still. I just _mainly_ hope that all goes well with this. I don't really see how it _couldn't_, with the few exceptions of what to do if Mom decides to check in on me later on or whatever, and then the whole bodyguards thing I'd just gone over.

But I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. . . in about fifteen minutes or so.

**-- End of Chapter Twenty Six  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Yay. Knocked another one out in one day. Then again, it's because I had it in my head for ages now. Now I have to endure sitting down to write out twenty-seven, which will be far longer than this or twenty-five had been. But there's no other way around that, though, if I want it all to make sense to you readers. So yeah. Bear with me if there might be a bit of update delay for it. It'll be fun, don't worry. LoL)**


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note:_ Hey. To save time for any possible future nitpicking or whatever, if there are ever any sort of grammatical errors like run-on sentences or something mostly (since I otherwise check everything else), it most likely hasn't been corrected because it's something Will did, herself. It's a diary. Who really cares about proper grammar if no one but the owner will read it? Exactly. LoL_

_That "Stone of Threbe" episode is on now, and making me inspired to continue my "Chronicles of Light" story. But for now, must stay focused! Must stay focused!! Finish this story first (which will be a long time from now, I'm gonna tell all that right now)!! LoL_

_But yeah. Can't believe it's almost going to be a year since I'd started this, AND have the months be congruent once again. Yay._

* * *

This chapter was created/written in August 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Seven**

**Sunday, November 5th, No Time, (That I'm Aware Of, Because I Forgot My Watch)**

**Guest Bedchamber inside of the Meridian Royal Palace**

One of the_ many_ guest bedchambers, to be more precise.

But yeah. I feel _so_ much better to be here within good old Capital City of Metamoor. (That made Meridian sort of sound like some casino location, didn't it? But I can't help that, because Meridian _is _the capital city of this world. Not my fault.)

Mainly because it's entirely separate and _literally_ a world (or two or three) away from Earth, where all of my _mounting_ problems are.

But of course, I'm also happy to be here because of _Elyon_, as well, who was (and still _is_) my main reason for this impromptu and unannounced visit.

Feel sort of guilty, though, as this is the first time that I've ever come to Meridian without the girls. I mean, it _isn't_ the first time that I've visited if there weren't any pressing Guardian matters to tend to, no, but yeah.

Like I said, either one or all of the girls have come with.

And definitely _Cornelia's_ always at the top of that list, since she and Elyon are practically like sisters, they're so close. I can only honestly remember just one occasion in which Cornelia could not come with me and the rest of the girls to Meridian, and that was when her real (that is, blood related) and younger sister, Lilian, had the Chicken Pox, and had to be looked after (since their parents were on a cruise at the time).

We'd all volunteered to stay and help, naturally (Well, everyone except for Hay Lin and myself, since neither of us had ever had the Chicken Pox before, and were too afraid that since we're older than "a little kid" by that time, we might have risked our illness being a bit more complicated if we'd caught it from Lilian. Sucks to be one or both of us if ever we _do_ catch it in the future now, when we'll be even _older_), but Cornelia got all "noble" on us and said to go without her since we'd all promised Elyon that we'd go see her at that time.

Other than that, though, like I said, Cornelia's _always_ been there.

So you can imagine the automatic platoon of questions that were running through Elyon's mind when she didn't see her best friend within my company (or the _other_ Guardians, for that matter), and only Matt _was_.

But absolutely nothing has happened yet (Question and Answer Time, I mean), because I didn't realize how _late_ it would be once I'd successfully Folded Matt and myself to the Meridian Palace.

Oopsie.

But Elyon really didn't seem too upset (or upset at _all_, really) to be woken up by her attendants after they'd alerted her of our presence.

Still.

Anyway, so she said since it's so late, to just spend the night (which I honestly hadn't planned on, obviously) and we could all just "further enjoy one another's company in the morning," she'd finished so gracefully, despite her obvious sleepiness. (Then again, ever since getting used to the whole swing of things of being a queen, everything and _anything _that she'll say and do is _always _exuding grace and elegance.)

So, _now_ I have to wait until morning to actually get to the bottom of things, so to speak. But I have zero objection, like I said, because I'm very happy and relaxed right now, inside of this extremely comfy and lavish bedchamber, and adorned within _equally_ comfy royal (I guess) 'jamies.

And _Matt's_ somewhere in one of the _other_ bedchambers, I'm sure, presumably already asleep, himself, since he _always_ instantly falls asleep wherever he is (if you give him a comfortable bed or something to lie upon, that is -- Even though it _was_ around like, five o'clock in the evening when we'd left Earth. I, myself, though, am really not so tired, after having slept for _ages_ the previous evening. But I guess I don't have much of a choice _but_ to sleep. And I'm not _about _to Fold back home, not after having managed to evade all appropriate individuals to get here -- Which I suppose I'll now have to explain later now, as well).

So this entry's unfortunately going to be far shorter than I'd initially thought it'd be.

But hopefully when next I write in here, I'll be writing about how things went well with the matters I still wish to discuss with Her Majesty, Queen Elyon. (If I _could_, I would trade places with her, so_ I_ could be ruler of _Meridian _instead. I _love_ this palace, this city -- this _world_. It's seriously like a second home to me at this point. And plus, the majority of its inhabitants know and accept if not like me really well, so it isn't as though it'd be really awkward to be _their _princess, I guess. . . But whatever. That's fantasy world. . .)

So, good night and goodbye for now, dear diary-journal. . . thing.

**-- End of Chapter Twenty Seven  
**

* * *

**(A.N. I know I promised a longer chapter in this one, but I'm in a tired, kinda sour mood right now, and the intro to the whole what did Will and Elyon talk about kind of thing didn't/couldn't really flow with this one. So then it's obviously the next chapter that will deal with all of that, and the aftermath of having stayed overnight instead of maybe twenty minutes or something. Sorry.)**


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note:_ I'm sure A.J. Is going to be most happy with this chapter, since the suggestion to have Will talk to Elyon had been brought up. I suppose great minds think alike, because I'd always planned to have her do so since the start of this story. So, yay._

_Oh, and if there's mistakes, don't tell me cuz I'm sure I'll see them regrettably after I post this, even though I'd spent literally twelve hours finishing and editing this entire thirteen page chapter (and I'm about to pass out and am dead on my feet as a result)._

_So I hope you appreciate this chapter and actually review! LoL_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in August 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Eight**

**Sunday, November 5th, 4:36 am, **

**Vandom Loft, My Bedroom**

Which is _also_ now my_ prison!!!! _

This is _so_ unfair!!! I _cannot_ believe that even Mom, my _own_ mother, who knows Matt like the back of her _hand_ (kind of) by now, had taken freaking _Eli's_ side!!!!

God! I cannot _wait_ until I get my own place, where I'll have my_ own_ rules and get to decide whom to let into my life, let _alone_ through the front door!!!!

_Obviously,_ a boat load of crap and drama has happened since I'd last written in here, and as pissed off as I am about it, I'm not really all that surprised (because I'm surrounded by_ extremely_ anal people all the_ time_ now).

Let me make the list before I get into grander detail:

Matt is now officially on the "hit list" of my mother, Eli and every Marsilian bodyguard within existence.

Matt is no longer allowed over to the loft for _forever_, apparently. (_Or_, at least whenever my grounded sentencing is over, and even_ then_ I'm sure that he'll need to have some sort of "supervision" at all times)

Matt is _beyond_ angry and fed up with me and my lies, (At least he _seems_ to be, and I guess that I can't fully blame him. _But_, to be fair, he _was _the one who hadn't declined in coming along with me to Meridian) and despite having been gravely pained by the fact that my family now views him as some sort of _sexual predator_, he _incredulously_ agrees with their reaction, apparently. (Yeah, easy for _him_ to do so, since _he's_ not the one on punishment for all of _eternity_ now.)

On the Meridian front,Elyondid not say (nor later _do_) what I'd hoped she would. And being that I thought that she could understand better than anyone what I'm going through right now (which she had later verbally confirmed), I thought that she honestly _would_ have. (Done what I'd asked, I mean.) So therefore, in summation, my trip had been an utter waste of time (outside of the whole catching up with a friend thing).

But, I digress.

Well, no, I really don't. Not really, because I'm about to continue on with it, anyhow.

_Whatever._ My mind is too jumbled, I'm so irascible right now. (But at least I'd used a "big word" to convey my anger, though. This new thesaurus I got is working, after all.)

But let me get this over with, and go in reverse order of how I'd created the list. That is, start with what happened with Elyon.

So, okay. I told you how I'd gotten there with Matt late, right? (The completely separate time dimensions or whatever you want to call it between Earth and Metamoor _always_ seems to slip my mind most of the time, because I _still _don't honestly know precisely what the calculated time difference is. But I'm going to say around eight hours or so. I say this because I'd come back here and it was about four o'clock in the morning, and it was only around noontime according to Elyon after having observed the sun's position within the sky over there. That, and because her royal agenda for the day was full, as always, and at "noon" she said that she was expected to give audience to the royal agriculturists about their annual Harvest Festival.)

Okay, so then, the following morning, I feel myself being lightly stirred awake by one of the palace's lady-in-waiting whom I'd recognized to be Luned.

Now _this_ Galhot and Escanor halfbreed was always very kind and helpful by nature (as far as _I've_ always known and seen thus far, anyway). However, whenever it dealt with we Guardians, Luned was _extra_ "kind and helpful" (which I'd always found pretty cool, because most of the _other_ palace attendants, although still pleasant in his or her own right, of course, are more so "by the book." That is, they do what they have to do and then are done with it. But I guess that's understandable -- Not that that means that Elyon works them to the _bone,_ and so they can't wait to get home at the end of each day or anything as a result, no. Just saying).

So waking up to her pale, cheerful face that I hadn't seen in a while was an extra treat for me (to have added to my previously elated mood).

"Good morning, Miss Will! I had heard from the other ladies-in-waiting that you'd arrived during the course of the previous evening! It is _so_ good to see you again!" Luned said to me with a broad smile while I groggily rubbed the sleep from out my eyes before slowly rising out of the grand bed.

After having collected myself, I gently smiled back at the older, taller woman before hugging her tight.

"I have. And it's _great_ to see you again, too. . . Hey, um. Do you happen to have any idea what time it currently is right now, by any chance?"

Luned's head lightly bobbed against my shoulder as she nodded in reply, before pulling away to release me from our embrace.

"That I do, of course! It is a few moments past sunrise, Miss Will. Which _means_ that the morning meal will soon be served," she said with another smile, her soft silvery eyes twinkling. "Her Majesty the Queen has already arisen, of course, and is in the process of her usual morning rituals as we speak. Today's royal agenda is rather busy, you understand; however, with her unparalleled grace and generosity, she has managed to swiftly set aside _half a day's_ worth of time _just _for you -- _And_ your friend, Matt!"

I then felt a tad stricken with guilt. I mean, because in my haste to get in touch with Elyon, it'd completely slipped my mind of how extremely busy her life usually was now that she's a queen, yet still somehow manages to make it look easy and make enough time for everyone. (Will _I_ be that busy? Lord, help me.)

Now, _she_ deserves to be queen, and was _so_ seriously made for the job.

As for _myself_, I was just thrust into my princess position by cruel circumstance. Because, _otherwise_, no one within their right mind would have _ever _appointedme one by _choice_.

But anyway. Snapping back to the present. . . Er, past. . . _Whatever!_

"Really? Now I feel awful to have just popped in on Elyon like this," I affirmed my chagrin to the silver, long haired half-blood, running a hand through my no-change-in-messiness hair.

Luned just waved a hand at this and smiled at me once more.

"Not at _all!_ It is good that you have come to see Queen Elyon. She may not be aware that I've noticed, but I can tell that she has missed you -- You _and_ the other Guardians," she revealed softly. "I say this as merely more of an assumption, of course, but lately I sometimes observe her staring off into space as though in longing or deep contemplative thought. . ."

This really wasn't news to me.

I mean, since Guardian and universe-protecting business has been next to zilch for a while now (and thus, less trips to Meridian), I can imagine that it'd only be _natural _that Elyon would begin to miss her best friends.

And _then_, of course, after having heard this admission upon the young queen's behalf began to make me feel all the more pleased with myself all over again (that I'd decided to come visit).

Because now, my being there would serve to benefit the both of us.

Lost in thought once more, I can hear Luned repeat my name a few times before I'd finally caught on.

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, Luned. I guess that I'm just a bit sleepy still," I lied. (Well, _sort _of -- I really _was_ still kind of tired, because it felt like I'd only been asleep for maybe three hours or so last night after I'd finally succeeded in falling unconscious.) "But, no. I'm glad to be here for Elyon, then. . . if the other Guardians could not -- U-uh, that is, because they were all unfortunately previously engaged, I meant to say. . ."

Luned surprisingly only nodded gently in understanding.

"Absolutely. Although it _is_ a shame that they could not have joined you. I _do_ so enjoy to see all five of you wonderful Guardians -- Our _saviors!_ But I am sure that I will see them when next you visit, and they are not as. . . busy as you'd said."

Geez. Did I have it written all over my forehead or something, my having decided to ditch my friends before having come here, because I've _also_ decided to keep them in the dark about everything?

I just offered an apologetic smile and lightly shrugged at this, before Luned continued.

"Now! Let us hurry and get you bathed and dressed for breakfast, before Queen Elyon tans my hide for keeping her in wait of your presence!"

Without protest, I just allowed Luned to lead me to the. . . I guess we'll just dub it the "royal bathroom" (since it _is_ within a royal palace, after all. Although, there's really not super much to it despite Elyon's "magical assist," given that Metamoor _is _technically a bit like a Medieval type of world. Still a beautiful "bathroom," though) to get "groomed" for breakfast, which I assumed Matt was then doing the same.

And since we obviously hadn't brought any change of clothes, it wasn't _so_ bad to have to have gone through (the grooming, I mean), even though we _did _both end up having to wear Meridian clothes (which are also kind of on the "Medieval" side) as a result.

But that's okay, I guess. That is, since _I_ at least, am used to it a bit, after I'd had to wear it as undercover attire once, during a Guardian mission of the past that had gone wrong. (Although, I shouldn't call getting trapped inside of a painting of Meridian, without the use of my Guardian powers at my disposal and getting hunted by Lord Cedric and his goons a mission that had "gone wrong." I _should_ call it a _monstrous catastrophe_.)

_Matt_ looked pretty funny, though, since he usually wears "cool clothes," like semi-baggy pants and jeans, grunge-type tees and sweatshirts, and with his hair normally free and loose (if he isn't wearing one of his bucket hats, anyway).

_Now_, however, he looked liked an olden time horse buggy driver, or something, or like that old majordomo dude from that one cute mermaid cartoon movie.

And you'd better _believe_ that I'd called him on it.

"Tch -- _Whatever_. At least _I'm _not a liar, not a _scaredy cat. . . _Oh! Not a _blackmailer_, not --"

"-- _Okay!_ All right! I'm_ sorry_, okay? _Fine_, you look. . . _clean?_" I interrupted Matt's character onslaught against me, at a loss for words of what compliment to offer to him about his (bizarre -- For _him_, anyway) newfound appearance.

Matt scoffed and rolled his brown eyes, while tugging upon his newly slicked back and braided (and _ribboned_) hair in annoyance.

"More like a _poodle_, I look like -- They _do_ know that I'm a _guy_, right?. . . _Remind_ me again why I wanted to come with you to Meridian?" he asked in exasperation, as the two of us continued to stand outside of my bedroom door to wait for Luned to return (so that she could escort us to the grand dining hall where Elyon was).

"Because you've only been to Meridian just a handful of times, and always enjoy coming along with us whenever you can? And, I guess to offer moral support?" I answered my friend's question with another question, struggling to fight the urge to purposely muck up my_ own,_ now smoothed out hair, or rustle around with my gold colored gown.

Matt stopped fussing with his hair at this as his cheeks gained a light rouge to them.

"Yeah, well. . . Can you _blame_ me, though? How many opportunities does one_ have_ at visiting other worlds? This place is _always_ a trip to visit when and if I can," he replied with a forced frown to conceal his embarrassment. "And _anyway_, I _mainly _came, besides to see an old friend again, because I wanted to make sure that you don't try to feed her some one sided story when you tell her all about your being a princess."

"_You_ are a princess, as _well? _Oh, well as Queen Elyon _used_ to be, I mean? Oh, this is certainly a _surprise!_ Why hadn't you ever told us _before_, Miss Will?" I could hear Luned suddenly gush with excitement from behind us.

I knew that she was coming. I'd written that I had and that Matt and I were waiting for her. But I had been so focused upon my conversation with him that I hadn't thought to shush him about the royal business before we'd gone to see Elyon.

And I should have been more mortified to know that yet another person knew my secret. I suppose that I was, a bit. But it was _Luned_, and I really like her a lot -- Plus, she _was_ one of the most trustworthy citizens within the Metamoorian world. (And I _was_ technically there to let the proverbial cat out of the bag anyway, so to speak.)

I just hadn't planned on it coming out in that fashion, that's all.

_Or_, to be announced in such a different manner than I normally am whenever me and the girls visit the palace.

What am I talking about? _Sigh_. See, _commonly_, the palace servitors will bring our presence to Elyon's attention by announcing we Guardians as:

"Now entering, the Most Honorable, Guardians of the Veil!"

And if Luned hadn't found out about my princess. . . ness, then I would have most likely been announced as:

"Now entering, Her Ladyship, Miss Will of the Guardians of the Veil and Keeper of the Heart of Candracar!"

Or something close to that effect, at least, since the girls and I have often been referred to as "Ladies" or "M'Ladies" and stuff by various Meridian citizens.

_Now_, however, I was regrettably proclaimed as:

"Now entering, Her Royal Highness, Princess Will of the Guardians of the Veil and Keeper of the Heart of Candracar, and her honored companion, Sir Matt!"

You can imagine the shock and surprise by this sudden change in addressing.

Matt smirked in amusement at me as I slapped a hand to my face from behind the usual Galhot dude who did all of the official announcements for Elyon as the three of us stood within the entranceway to the dining hall.

"Now, _this_ is going to be a _great_ breakfast," I could hear him say as he playfully pinched my arm before we were led into the huge, lavish and brightly lit area where Queen Elyon patiently sat (at her usual place at the head of the elongated, golden table).

"Oh! Uh. . . 'Her Royal Highness, Princess Will?' H-have I _missed _something?" she asked softly in confusion as she rose from her seat and once Matt and I were close enough.

I merely just sighed heavily and gave my old friend a generous hug in response, being careful not to wrinkle the beautiful lavender colored robed gown that she had on. (I personally always preferred the traditional soft green colored one she'd normally wear more than any other. But then again, _all_ of her other gowns and robes are as equally stunning. _I'll _be lucky to look just as "stunning" within a _burlap sack_ once _I'm_ queen. . . Sigh.)

As I released her and Matt took my place to give Elyon his own greeting in turn, I could see that her cool blue eyes were still fixated upon me, obviously waiting for answers. I'd wanted to delicately somehow segue into it later on, after we'd all gotten all of our pleasantries out of the way. But I guess at _that _point, there was no longer a point in doing so, _especially_ since Elyon _could_ be just as persistent as Cornelia. (Plus, I don't really think it's. . . copasetic, I guess you could say, to try to deceive a queen. At least, not one who could easily and quite _literally_ imagine you into a world of _pain_.)

So, taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth to begin, when Elyon suddenly interrupted me (sort of, since I hadn't said anything yet) and goes,

"Oh, it's so good to see you guys! _So_ good! Even though, Matt, you look like. . . u-uh! Anyhow! I'm sorry that I could not have better entertained you last night, but I was _far_ too fatigued to be good use to _anyone_, you understand."

There goes that "true-queenish" shining forth again (negating that flustered cover at almost referring to Matt's dark colored attire as most likely something I'd already written). Maybe I should have _Elyon_ be my princess lesson coach instead of _Eli_, with his pontificated self.

Choosing to ignore the soft giggling that I was emitting at that moment, Matt had to unfortunately counter (against me) with,

"Uh. . . yeah. Will and I understand completely, your majesty. _Don't_ we, Will? Queens and princesses and such _always_ need their beauty rest for their busy schedule lives. . ." he said with an air of mystery and a generous smile upon his face after pulling away from Elyon (who gazed at him with renewed perplexity).

Despite this, however, what she _had_ instead touched upon next was: ". . .Are the girls not here with you because you and Matt are back together again now, and this is like, some sort of mini-retreat for the two of you? Because you two just suddenly seem more. . . '_in sync_' again like back when you were dating."

I couldn't help it.

I didn't mean to.

But the next thing I know, I'm laughing to the point of _hysterics_ at this. And _needless_ to say, everyone present within the dining hall (and _especially_ Matt) were _not_ amused as well.

Seriously. I really _didn't _mean it. I didn't. It's just that it's been so long since I'd honestly thought of Matt in "that way," that to hear it again from someone else is sort of foreign.

And I'd said so.

"Sorry, Ellie -- Matt. That's just. . . '_eww_' for me now, now that I see you as mainly just a part of my _family_ or something," I explained in apology after having calmed down and wiped a stray tear away from my eye. "So, _no_, Elyon. Matt and I are definitely _not_ back together. . . It'd be a moot point, _anyway_, really, given. . ."

Caught myself just in time. Elyon doesn't know, either, that I'm now in love with Caleb. And of all of the people I wish_ not_ to know, besides obviously Cornelia, she's at the top of my list _because_ she's her best friend. I don't really think Elyon would honestly take sides between the two of us (since we're both her friends), but I'm _also_ not an idiot. I know that she'd most likely "look down" upon it _and _myself, and fear that I might eventually crack one day and try to come between Cornelia and Caleb or something. (But _Caleb's_ the one who's done something to that effect, though, and not I, with that e-mail. And as risky as it may be in regards to my relationship with Cornelia, as_ soon _as I lay my eyes upon that beautiful guy on Monday, God _help_ me, I am_ going_ to thank him for sending the message and see where that leads us. That's a _promise_.)

But, anyway. Moving on.

Before Elyon could focus upon the last that I'd said, I quickly added,

"Oh! A-and the girls aren't here too, because they were. . . Um. . ."

There I was, again, about to concoct yet another mendacity. I'm getting to be a pro at this, damn it. But like I said, I _refused _to do so, not just because she was of royal blood and I wanted to continue on with the respect that I've always given to her, but because Elyon was my friend (which I suppose didn't bode well for Taranee and the others, since they _too_ are my friends, but I've been slinging _fairy tales_ at them left and right in the last few days).

". . .'Because?' Why _aren't _they here with you, Will? And hey, yeah, why _did_ Obed announce you as a _princess?_ You know that I _hate_ being left in the dark," Elyon said anxiously, motioning for Matt and I to take our seats at the vast table after she'd first done so, herself.

Matt didn't say a word, but just looked at me with a hardened glance as though to say: "Do it now, or I_ will_. And _trust _me -- I _won't_ make it be pretty."

So. . . I finally did.

After clearing my throat, I looked sheepishly at Elyon (who'd just then picked up her spoon to begin eating the breakfast meal that'd been already laid out for us) and hollowly began to tell her everything.

". . .I. . . don't really know how else to say it. . . So, here goes: About a few days ago I'd found out from my mom and her _whacked_ out, long lost younger brother who'd come to visit that not only has she been a princess all this time -- and _he's _the current king of their shared native country of Marsily, a country which I'm _sure_ that even _you've_ heard of and I _haven't_ until now, sadly, because I've been living under a_ rock_ -- but_ I'm_ also royal, a fellow princess, and _apparently _'destined to rule' over said country. . . even though there's like this choice that I have_ not _to have a choice in the matter or something like that. . ." I gushed without a breath in between, succeeding in causing both Elyon _and _Matt to stop eating and stare at me as though I were on medication, what with all of the run-on sentences that I'd created. (Might as _well_ have been on something -- Couldn't have _hurt_, anyway, because then it might have helped to make me forget about the entire incident.)

After a few moments of dreadful silence that seemed to have elapsed into _eons_, Elyon had at last regained her composure before anyone else, and gently smiled and waved a hand at the dining attendants surrounding us not too far away.

". . . That will be all for now -- Thank you," she expressed kindly and then patiently waited until every last handmaiden and steward had left the dining hall and sealed the grand double doors shut behind before speaking again. (Like that mattered, the wishing to seek privacy, as I'm almost certain that every last one of them had rushed off to tell every citizen within Meridian the latest news. But, eh. Better in Metamoor than on Earth, right?) ". . .Y. . . you're _serious_. . . aren't you? I mean, I can't imagine why you _wouldn't_ be. That is, as much as I love you and her both, I could never picture _you_ to be the one to say, 'Hey, I'm a princess!' and maybe not Cornelia instead. . ."

"Thats exactly what _I_ said when Will told_ me_, after I'd gotten over the initial shock," Matt murmured softly with a smile, obviously trying to help ease the growing tension that was collecting within the room.

All I could do was slowly nod in acknowledgment. After letting it all out in one swoop, there was not much else to say at that moment. Plus, I'd wanted to allow Elyon a chance to properly digest it all. At least _she_ hadn't laughed in my face in the way that _Matt_ had (and he'd obviously negated to mention), and as I'd honestly expected.

But I guess after seeing, hearing _and_ living through the things that she has, Elyon's disposition was now set onto believing anything.

It certainly _seemed_ that way, because the next thing out of her mouth was,

". . .And the girls aren't here with you. . . because they most likely don't _know_ about any of this. . ."

Now it was _my_ turn to be utterly surprised. However, I only smiled softly afterwards for a moment or two before responding.

". . .It hasn't been _that_ long since I'd seen you last, has it? Because you're becoming more and more. . . '_queenie_' everyday -- _Seriously_," I said, the simper upon my face growing as I gazed at the teenage yet profoundly astute queen seated before me. "Because it's getting to be that absolutely_ nothing _can get past you, Miss _Omniscient_. . ."

Elyon giggled softly, revealing a momentary glimpse at the younger, a bit more naïve former incarnation of herself as a result.

"Is that so? Well, then that's certainly a good thing for me and the rest of my kingdom -- And bad for _you_, who obviously thought that she'd be able to pull a _fast_ one on me when she'd thought to come here," she countered playfully, lightly tapping my hand while turning her crowned head to wink at an equally amused Matt. "But, Will, honestly: You of all people _should _know that, for the sake of the Guardians of the Veil remaining as cohesive as they've managed to be for this long, you _can't_ have any sort of secrecy -- No matter _how_ small, _or_ apparently _humiliating_. . . Especially not _now_. . ."

I raised my eyebrows at this, suddenly flooded with both concern and intrigue at the last of Elyon's words. Her formerly vibrant face was suddenly clouded with apprehension.

And you didn't have to be a brain surgeon to realize that that didn't equal something pleasant.

"Hey. . . _Forget _about me and my problems for a minute: What did you mean by 'especially not now?' Have there been troubles here within Metamoor again, Elyon?" I asked with soft urgency, as both Matt and I gently seized each of the young queen's hands.

As concerned for Elyon and her world as I was right then, I _also_ was admittedly feeling a bit _selfish_ as well. That is, I was starting to worry that she was about to tell me that there were new creatures, or someone currently attacking the city yet again, and that she'd obviously need to call upon the Guardians for active duty once more.

_Yes_, I know that it's my job, responsibility and obligation to do so.

I _get_ that.

But in case you haven't noticed within my past entries, I'm practically falling apart at the _seams_ here with this princess drama. I can barely handle my _regular _life, let alone whatever might have flown out of Elyon's then pursed lips next.

And I know, I _know_ that that's horrible for me to say (and I also know that I've already reflected upon all of the "what if?" angles to if ever I'd get a new mission to deal with with the girls, while simultaneously trying to decide how much money to tax the people of Marsily over or something in the future). But things have honestly been extremely "dry" and quiet around here in Metamoor (as far as I've always known all this time before now), that I figured that I'd have (_hopefully_) would have gotten through and out of this horrible mess with Eli before anything could happen, you know?

But, anyway. Let me shut up and get back to what Elyon was talking about. Or, _about_ to talk about.

Or _did_.

_Arrgh! _I have_ got_ to stop writing in this journal so late (or early) in the morning!

So, okay. Elyon's looking kind of like she'd accidentally swallowed a fly or something, and looks from me, to Matt, and then to the large double doors of the dining hall (I suppose as a precautionary measure) before responding.

". . .Well, _no_. Not necessarily. It's my _hope_, anyhow. I have been careful to keep this to myself up until now, of course, just in case it turns out to be mere fabrication and then I've just riled up my people for nothing, you know?" she began, blue eyes downcast at her plate of half eaten food. "But I've actually heard a few rumors that there is some sort of underground revolt _against_ the Royal Family. . ."

I gasped at this, honestly then feeling more outraged than regrettable that I apparently would have some new problems to tackle, while Matt frowned deeply in reflection across from me. Either he was thinking the same as I was (about having to "go back to work"), or was just really shocked and appalled that anyone within this world could honestly be _displeased_ with the drastic progress and change for the better that Elyon had managed to accomplish, after all of the years of her twisted older brother, Phobos's rule of tyranny. (I kind of wonder if _he_ would get along with Eli. What do _you_ think?)

But, _either_ way, I verbalized it.

"How or _why _would _anyone_ wish to go against your kingdom and ruling, when you've been nothing but unanimously -- or so we'd _thought_, anyway -- the best thing that's ever happened to Metamoor in an _extremely_ long time?" I asked, trying to wrap my mind around the new turn of events.

"_Exactly_. It's not _possible_. I mean, _I _obviously haven't really been as involved with this whole back history and development of this world or anything, no, but anyone can _clearly_ see that you really _are_ a fantastic ruler, Ellie," Matt added, trying his best to cheer up the still visibly down and out Elyon.

She exhaled softly at this before gazing upon us both and managing to smile.

". . .Thanks, you guys. And you're right. As hard and overwhelming as it's been, it's also been very _rewarding_ to be Meridian's queen. I know that I've been doing at _least_ a better job at ruling than my. . . _brother_ ever had," she agreed, her confidence obviously returning to her as her eyes briefly narrowed with hurt and betrayal at the thought and mention of her older sibling. "Still. . . it does not change the fact that there _are_ the rumors still about."

"Well, what _are_ the rumors exactly? That is, what have you heard and from _whom?_" I asked a bit urgently, admittedly eager to compile the list of recent events so that I could be able to say "yay or nay" more swiftly upon whether or not this was something we should _all _be worried about.

The Light of Meridian cleared her throat.

"I wasn't _exactly_ forthright when I'd told you guys that I've managed to keep this to myself. I mean, I _have_ in the sense that I have not declared this as some sort of 'state of emergency' or anything yet with my people, no. But I _had_ confided within Vathek and Aldarn, who both actually should be acting undercover within the city about the matter as we speak."

"Well, then, that's a _good_ thing, right? Then now maybe either one or both of them should be able to find out more about this to help put your mind at ease," Matt offered, unconsciously beginning to tug at his braided ponytail thoughtfully, which caused we ladies present to gently smile at to witness.

"Perhaps, Matt, but I am actually hoping and leaning _more_ towards them _not _finding anything out, which would then in turn prove to me that it really_ is_ nothing but some monstrous hearsay that's only in circulation just to fluster me -- Which is sadly succeeding in doing so," Elyon murmured, gazing down at her plate once more a moment, before stubbornly fixating a more resilient expression upon her countenance. "But I _refuse_ to give _any_ satisfaction to whomever might have started it. Then that would only make the words become _reality_, and I really _would_ have a revolt on my hands."

I scowled deeply at this, feeling myself remember less and less about my "Earthly troubles" back home, and sliding back into my old, yet comfortable proverbial shoes as Keeper of the Heart of Candracar more and _more_.

"_Not_ gonna happen, Elle, and that's a _promise_," I avowed with a small nod for emphasis. "As soon as Matt and I get back to Earth, I'll let the girls know about it and see what they think. And then we'll _all _come back to visit just to double check on things if you'd like."

Both Elyon and Matt gasped at this, which I completely didn't understand why until the other girl spoke again.

". . .Well, I'm happy to hear that, of course, Will, and honestly _will _feel a bit better knowing that you guys will at _least_ be alert to the rumor if nothing else comes of it. But. . ." she trailed off, color returning to her creamy face the moment she began to softly grin at me.

I just blinked a few times in honest perplexity as I looked back at her. _Matt_, however, seemed to have caught on (I swear that boy's _way_ too smart for his own good, sometimes, honestly), because _he_ suddenly starts laughing for a few seconds before smirking at me as well.

"What Her Royal Majesty the Queen is trying to say is, how will you be able to tell the girls about all of this _and_ your visit to Meridian, _period_, without _also_ having to explain why you'd come _without_ them. . . your _highness!_" he delivered with a bit_ too_ delicious gusto, playfully tossing a piece of the bread roll that had been upon his plate at me.

Elyon squealed with glee like a little child by the act, rather than be upset (As though she ever _would_ be), and followed suit. Clearly, all of her woes and worries over her beloved world's possible direction within the future had completely evaporated (if only for the time being).

And_ I_ would have been more happy about that, if it didn't mean that we were now about to talk more about all of _my_ woes and worries (even though it _was _why I was there in the first place, I had to remind myself once again).

"H-hey! _Watch_ it! This isn't any way for a proud and _proper_ queen to behave!" I teased, sounding a bit like Eli as a result. Blocking that out, I instead lightly chuckled as I barely dodged Elyon's stray baked good projectile that'd almost made its mark upon my forehead. "And I thought that I'd told _you_ to stop calling me 'your highness??'"

"It _is_ what you now are, after all, right? So Matt's not _wrong_ to call you it," Elyon defended thoughtfully after calming down within her fits of giggles.

"Well, _whatever_. Doesn't mean that I _like_ it -- Like _any _of it," I muttered with a light grimace, staring darkly at nothing and no one in particular.

Elyon cocked her laureled head to the side, causing the usual pigtails of her (now much longer), platinum blonde hair to sway a bit in the process.

"I feel guilty now. I mean, here you are, obviously stressed out _beyond_ belief about the news of _your _being royalty all this time -- Something that would rattle _anyone's_ psyche to learn of so late, as it had _mine_ for a little while, of course, after learning about _my_ heritage -- and wanting to talk to me about it, and I haven't even_ let _you yet," she apologized heavily, straightening her posture as it was then_ her_ turn to cup my hand within her own. "Now, go on. _Please_. I've got _all _morning and some of my afternoon to dedicate to listening all about lucky Marsily's newest princess."

I cringed at the last comment, which I'm aware was meant to have been non-sarcastic and a genuine compliment.

But I _didn't_ take comfort within it.

Because I don't honestly _believe _that all three million-plus citizens of Marsily _are_ very lucky to have to welcome me as their latest monarch.

However, the more I'd talked about all of it to Elyon throughout the rest of breakfast, and then later on while Matt and I accompanied her on a stroll within her vast countryside before her meeting for the Harvest Festival, I got to thinking:

_Maybe they won't have to. _(Welcome me, that is.)

Because by _that_ time, after it was clear and unfortunate for me that Elyon was actually _ecstatic_ about the prospect of me one day becoming queen, myself ("Because _I _evidently have more faith within your capabilities than _you_ do, yourself," she replied as an explanation when I'd asked her why she was so enthused. Ha. Sure. "Capabilities" to constantly trip and fall and scrape even _more_ parts of my body, while I simultaneously end up destroying _treaties,_ or something important and historic like that, with whatever allies the country has because I might have ended up offending them with my natural stumblebum tendencies, you mean), I started formulating a _new_, definitely _beyond _selfish plan. (And for those of you who might not have caught up, or weren't aware of the "original" plan, it was to get Elyon's opinion on what I should do next. And by get her opinion, I mean have her take _my_ side, and tell me _and_ Matt that it's _okay _for me to want to keep this to myself for as long as possible -- Even if it _is _ostracizing me from my friends. But like I said, she basically didn't see eye to eye with me about that.)

And so, taking a deep breath for the umpteenth time, I placed myself within Elyon's direct path as the three of us continued to walk and said,

"_Then_, your majesty, I'm going to have to ask, as your loyal Guardian of the Veil and protector, that you please use your powers over reality to make it so that I never_ was_ a princess. Make my mom and Eli forget or something, I don't know."

As incredulous as this request sounded (and it honestly _was_, I will admit), I'd delivered it surprisingly calm, as though it were an everyday thing to ask.

Elyon and Matt, on the other hand, were both not finding _anything_ "normal and everyday" about it, because _they'd_ ended up simultaneously launching into yet _another_ lecture (on _Matt's_ part, I mean, anyway, about it being "yet another lecture" from him) about how it would be immoral, egocentric, and irresponsible a thing for Elyon to do, even _if _she'd wanted to.

"Well, why_ not?_ I'd bet that if it were _Cornelia _and _she_ had been the one to ask, you'd at least _consider_ doing it," I countered a bit childishly, knowing that there was no truth at all within my claim. As close as those two girls may be, when it came to Elyon's tremendous, and _frighteningly_ powerful magic, she _didn't_ mess around nor leave anything to chance.

"Now _that_ was just stupid, I'm sorry, because number _one_, you know quite well that I never _would_, and number _two_, that if it _were_ Cornelia, _she_ never would," the blonde queen said forcefully, although with a small but growing smile upon her face, knowing the obvious jest that she'd made in regard to her best friend. "In any case, I suppose that I have wasted your trip here, Will, in terms of wishing to seek the fast-and-quick help you were so plainly looking for."

I scoffed at this, folding my arms across my chest in defeat, tapping my slippered foot upon the soft and luscious green grass beneath us.

"_Chyea_, no kidding," I mumbled, at the same time that Matt playfully messed up my hair _for_ me (since I was just going to finally do that later once I got back home) from behind as all three of us about-faced and began to make our way back to the palace.

And as the last bit of input (for now, anyway, I guess) to my "royal plight" before I'd Folded Matt and I back to Earth, Miss Queen Elyon goes:

"Listen, Will. I'm sure that it's rough, what your uncle's been putting you through -- From the sound of things, it _has_ been. And it really _does_ suck that your mother had kept your lineage from you all this time, thus leaving you ill-prepared to handle and adjust to everything a bit better.

However, if I could just say one thing? Speaking as your good friend, I wholeheartedly and one-hundred percent agree with your feelings of negativity, and just wishing for things to go back to normal -- and to _be_ normal again. Or, at least, just to have your 'Being Will and being a Guardian' life back again, anyway. If it were _me_ -- and again, it sort of was, 'once upon a time' -- I would react and behave just about the same way. So I'm _very_ glad and honored that you felt that you could come to me to talk about it.

But. . . and I know you're not going to like this, but speaking as a _queen _-- and from one monarch to _another_ -- I would_ gravely_ advise that you do not keep on as you are. That is to say, keep on with all of your secrecy and prevarication in regards to the girls. Take a page from your _mother's_ book, if I may say so: Look at what's happened for _her_ and her formerly close relationship with you, as a _result_ of her choosing to keep you in the dark for as long as she has. Please, Will. _Please _don't _you_ continue to do the same, or else you _might_ end up regretting it. . ."

And that was that. Well, I mean obviously me and Matt politely escorted Elyon back to the palace before we'd parted ways and all that. But I mean that was that as the "final thought" and parting gift on the matter.

HOW INCREDIBLY "CREEPY" AND CRYPTIC WAS THAT????

Is the girl _trying_ to jinx me or something????

"Speaking as a queen" is _right!_ She sounded _completely _like Eli right there when she said all that she had about no longer lying to Taranee and the others any longer!

I mean, _cripes_. She's definitely _completely_ assimilated into the life of a queen and what is expected of one for _sure_, I'm telling you (I'd already said this or something like this, haven't I? Okay. Repeating myself, now. Time to close out this entry, and _fast_ before I no longer make_ any_ sense), what with her "grown up" attitude and _oodles_ of wisdom I unfortunately realize to be true but didn't wish to hear nor deal with.

I KNOW SHE'S RIGHT, OKAY, "DEAR DIARY????" YOU DON'T HAVE TO RUB IT IN!!!!

_Matt _did that enough_ for_ me after we'd left Elyon's presence and I'd summoned the Heart of Candracar from out of my right palm, thank you very much. (Oh, and_ after _we'd swiftly changed back into our "Earth clothes" and Matt had ecstatically freed his hair from his beret-accessories, for sure, yeah.)

But it was _still_ greatly annoying and unappreciated, nonetheless.

So, okay. We'd gotten through number four on my list.

Now for the icing on the cake, which is causing me to get agitated all over again to think upon.

But first, let me explain how I'd managed to get out of the loft -- out of Earth, period, without getting caught by Mom or Eli and his crew.

I'd honestly planned on feeding everyone the excuse that I was tired and was going to stay in, remember that? And obviously not to bother with protection since I'd just be at home. And then, if worse came to worse and my mother might have knocked on my door to check on me from time to time (as she often does), I guess I would have then created my usual doppleganger backup, my Astral Drop (which I usually and generally try to avoid in doing so, since it mainly only causes me _grief_ as a result).

But when I got back to the loft, Mom's surprisingly _rushing _out of the door, telling me that she won't be back until probably early the next morning, because she'd just gotten a call from work. Said that things were getting backed up and _haywire _within her division, and that her new (pretty bitchy) boss, Gloria, was barking at her to get there on the double.

"It would _figure_ that the first time in a _long _time that I'd actually taken a day and a half off from work that all _Hell_ would break loose, right?" she said sarcastically with a faint smirk as she hurriedly threw on her jacket before leaving. "Now, I've left you a few slices of pizza I'd gone ahead to order for you while you were out, and bought you some of that chocolate spread that you like so much. Oh, and I've _also_ instructed Eli to leave you be, because he has no business being here at all today. So you won't have to worry about him showing up,_ or_ your bodyguards. _But!_ You _still _know the rules: No one is to be allowed over without my knowing, and lock up everything after I leave. I love you, sweetheart!"

And that was it. No need to hurl lies or anything into her face yet again.

I couldn't believe it. So you can guess at how happy I was already beginning to feel at that point, since I felt like it was a_ sign _or something for me to go see Elyon that day.

So after I'd made sure that Mom was gone (_and_ Sprita, Ernest, or even _Tegan_ weren't hanging out around the outside of the building somewhere -- which they hadn't been, from what I could see, anyway), I called Matt on my cellphone and told him that it was safe to drive up, but to park _behind_ the building just in case.

So yeah, he did, and after I let him in through the back door of the old laundry room that used to be here for we residents before the new one had been constructed, I brought him up to my room to Fold us over to Meridian, blah blah blah.

This was around. . . about a bit after five o'clock or so, again, yeah? And I honestly didn't plan to stay long like I also said before, but now that I knew that my mother wouldn't have been back _anyhow_, I wasn't stressed about the concept of time and all that. (Clearly not, if I'd _slept over_, thinking that we'd be back before _Mom_ was by morning and such.)

_Boy_, was _I_ sorely mistaken!

It had been _my_ fault to have been so confident and "cocky" enough to spend the night in Meridian, and it had been my _mother's_ fault for having any sort of faith within her _moronic _brother. (I mean, after all, they no longer get along or like one another, so why _should_ she?)

Because, low and behold, what do I find (and feel) when Matt and I had returned to Earth? My bedroom in disarray (which was why I said "feel," because we'd ended up landing on my desk that someone had apparently moved a bit in frantic haste or something. Well, _I _landed on the desk. _Matt_ had landed hard onto the floor).

Needless to say, I started to freak out and think that the loft had been broken into while I was gone because of this, _and_ because the lights within my room were on (when they obviously had been _off_ before and after I'd left).

And before Matt nor I could even ask ourselves what might have happened, in comes Eli's four bodyguards, bounding through the door with their king (_and _Mom) in tow. Oh, and _yes_, S & E.

Oh, right. And _Tegan_. (Well, _what?_ So many people had come into my room at once, it was hard to keep up.)

"What is going _on_, here?" I'd actually blurted out heatedly without thinking, before catching my mother's face. It had gone from "Oh, my God, I was so _worried!_" kind of look, to "You just _wait _until everyone leaves so that I can tear you a _new_ one!" sort of expression.

Which I instantly knew meant that I was in deep. . . _you_ know.

And I definitely _was_. Because of all of the dramatics that I don't care to repeat since it will just make me _scream. _So I will just very quickly summarize what had happened, which is _basically_ that I've been _massively_ grounded (as I'd said before).

As it'd turned out, Mom had managed to get things back under control back at Simultech rather easily, and so came home around one o'clock in the morning (which would be. . . I _guess_ around the time that Elyon had treated me and Matt to brunch before our walkabout).

Lucky _me_, right? And of _course_, once she'd seen that I wasn't in my room or anywhere to be seen, and didn't answer my cellphone (_nor_ had taken it with me in the _first_ place, as she'd later found out after hearing it vibrate underneath my bed -- which I mainly hadn't taken with me just in case one or all of the girls had called me. Wouldn't have mattered, _anyway_, because I _highly_ doubt that long distance calls could be had between Earth and Metamoor), she started to go _ballistic_.

Thought that I'd decided to go out for a walk or to a movie at first, which mainly just annoyed her, because I'd told her that I was going to stay in that night (and then didn't bother to leave a note to say where I'd gone at the very least).

And then, once I hadn't come home for the rest of the night (which was really only three hours that I'd been gone, from the time that my mom had returned and waited up for me, honestly), that's when she started to go the kidnapper route and was cursing herself that she _hadn't _let Sprita or Ernest stay with me, after all.

Who _cares?_ When it had turned out that, even though Mom had asked Eli _not _to have anyone from his employment to look after me (clearly out of trust for me, which now Mom _obviously_ no longer has towards me for the next _decade_ or so), he'd agreed. . . but only on the surface.

That is, as _he'd_ explained it, he'd said that he wouldn't have had anyone guard me from inside the loft, or post themselves outside of the building. But he _also_ never said that he wouldn't have basic surveillance set up to monitor who went in and out of the building by act of general suspicion. (And I thought that _I _was growing more and more insane.)

And _this_, dear journal, was when it'd all gone_ horribly_ downhill even _further_ from here.

Because Eli had to go and open his_ fat _mouth and say that they'd spotted Matt's car in the back alley and eventually recognized it to be his. And once he'd said all of _that_ and had succeeded in painting the poor guy to be some super bad influence upon me and trying to take advantage of me or whatever (because he wouldn't shut up _about_ it), Mom actually_ agreed!!_

"Well, while I don't believe all that your uncle has said -- or the way that he'd said it, no. . . I don't really think that it's a good idea for you two to be hanging out together so much anymore -- At least not for _now_, Matt, because _Will _here is _unbelievably _grounded," she revealed with an icy tone, as she and I glared at one another, and Matt was visibly trying to contain his_ own _anger and offense to both my mother and Eli's harsh accusations. (I could imagine that he was then feeling _disgusted_ and thinking how he could understand _Eli_ distrusting him. But my _mom_ didn't really have much excuse, since she knew him rather well by now as stated at the start of my entry. But whatever.) "I don't know if this is the two of you trying to rekindle your former relationship, this sneaking around, but --"

"-- Oh, my God! _Why_ does everyone keep saying and thinking that?? And _what_ is so damned _wrong_ about hanging out with your best friend, who _also_ happens to be a _guy?? _It isn't a _complete_ miracle to be friends with your _ex-boyfriend!!_" I exploded as I interrupted Mom, yearning for her to just shut up (as rude as that was to think).

"_Hey!_ Watch it, young lady, or you'll never see _any_ of your friends ever _again!_" she countered, pointing her extended index finger directly into my face as Matt and I sat impatiently upon my bed, and everyone else hovered around us as though worried we'd make a _run_ for it ("again") or something. "And that's _beside _the point! The point _is_ that you'd _lied!_ And on _top_ of that, had all of us nearly sick to _death_ over where you might have gone! And here I thought that things were a bit out of _hand_ with you always having your bodyguards with you everywhere that you went! _Now_ I'm beginning to think that it's _exactly _what you need!"

I was about to object to that and say something "clever" about how much that's a _crock_ for her to attack me about my lying (even though it was true and warranted, I suppose) when _she_ had done it to _me_ as well (as Elyon had pointed out for me), but I'd stopped myself.

Well, technically, my _mom_ had when she'd just waved her hand feverishly into my face and continued on.

"Now, I know that it's _stupid_ of me to ask this, since it's_ clear _that you won't tell the truth about it, anyway -- A _nasty_ habit that I'd honestly thought you'd gotten over by now -- but where exactly _were_ you all this time?" she asked bitterly, while Eli tapped his foot upon the carpeted floor expectantly with a deep set frown upon his tanned face.

I could feel Matt looking at me, most likely wondering if I'd either take a chance and finally come clean with my mother about "who I really am," or try to buffer out the continued chaos that was surrounding us.

Yeah.

Sure.

Tell the_ truth?_ Not in _this_ case. It'd be _impossible_ to get Mom to believe me right then, even if I _wanted_ to tell her everything, she was so mad. Not to mention that Eli would just probably manage to convince her that her only daughter had lost her _mind_ and needed to be admitted into the nearest _mental institution_, post haste.

But I honestly didn't _want_ to lie, even though I knew that I had to. Only because I knew that it really wouldn't make things better, and it would only prove my increasingly distrusting parent's point that I really _am_ still a beguiler.

So, instead, I just scoffed, folded my arms across my chest and turned my head away from Mom.

Not the best thing to have done (with so much attitude, I mean), but there was nothing for it. (I'm _already_ in trouble by this point, _anyway,_ right? So what did it matter?)

And then, seeing that I obviously wasn't going to say anything more, Mom just exhaled sharply, and paused a moment before turning her attention back onto Matt.

". . .I think that you should head home now, Matt. I'd called your grandfather after learning that your car was still here. I'm sure that he'll be happy to know that you're safe and sound," she said hollowly, suddenly sounding tired. "And as soon as Will's punishment is over -- Whenever _that_ will be, I haven't yet decided -- _then _we'll see about when next you can come over to see her again. . ."

Matt only stared back at her with a fatigued, yet hardened gaze of his own as he slowly rose from my bed.

". . .Yeah. Sure. . . I understand, Ms. Vandom," he replied with a stiff nod, before looking back down at me for a moment. ". . .'Bye."

It was only for like a second, but that look from him basically said what I'd already told you in the beginning of the entry: That he's_ incredibly _aggravated about this whole thing (including my princess crap, I'm sure), at the accusations, and mainly and specifically at me, myself.

I tried to call him to apologize after everyone finally left my room, but he didn't pick up. I'm sure that he's now thinking of how yet another one of my lies (even though _this_ one was technically a lie of _omission_) had gotten him caught up into one of my messes again.

. . .And now that I've had time to think about it all as I was writing it all down, and I'm honestly a bit more calmed down, Matt is absolutely right.

Because I _have_ screwed everything up. Well, I mean,_ Eli _and _Mom_ have screwed up my life _first_, but I've only _added_ to the pile.

So that's it. _Regardless _of what happens, I'm _going_ to tell Cornelia and everyone about my being a princess, come Hell or high water. (Who would have thought that Elyon's advice actually would have come in handy for me, _after all?_)

That is, on _Monday_, I suppose, since I highly doubt that Mom will let me see the light of _day_ later on today, let _alone _actual visitors.

But wish me luck.

**-- End of Chapter Twenty Eight  
**

* * *

**(A.N. I'll address a few things I might have done/not done in here in the next chapter, and in a note or w/e. So don't ask me about it yet. Until then, UGH! SALVATION! Thank you, sweet Jeebus! Finished! And yeah I know it was a bit overwhelming at times, but what do you people WANT from me?? I give short chapters, you want more. I GIVE you more, and you say you have a headache. Get over it. LoL But no, seriously. And I know now you'll also ask "Why didn't Susan call the girls and ask?" Who said she hadn't? She just didn't mention it to Will yet. OR, maybe she had, but Will was too lazy to write that yet. . . cough. LoL EITHER way, just please wait for the big "climax" coming up in the next chapter. Well, chapter thirty, actually, which will be another "long" chapter. Thanks!)**


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note:_ Wow. Only 4 reviews to chapter twenty-eight. Heart hurts, I'm so depressed by that. Okay, so my heart doesn't hurt, but it still sucks. LoL I REALLY hope it's because most of you are back to school or finishing up your vacations and such for the end of summer that the 32 of you who've added this story to your story alerts (Much obliged, of course) have yet to review. Cuz, yeah. Otherwise, it just really blows to sacrifice sleep (Not as though you'd told me to, but yeah LoL) and have "no one" bother to review._

_But, I digress._

_Since twenty-eight was so long (and no one cared), this one's one of those short ones, to act as "segue" for "the big event" that is chapter thirty. And for a future head's up, after thirty, everything's going to change. Which means nothing will be the same for Will anymore (EVEN more, anyway), and no more lies, etc. _

_Oh, and also for all of you who might have been reading this for the sole purpose of it being a Will/Caleb story (Yes, it is LoL), you'll be happy to know that there will be a lot more Caleb/Will interaction. Just keep reading, please, be patient/supportive still, and please leave a review so I actually KNOW you're still here. LoL Thanx!_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in August 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Nine**

**Sunday, November 5th, 12:45 pm, **

**Vandom Loft, My Bedroom**

My ASS, will he try to do this to me.

NOT gonna happen.

What am I talking about, _now_ (because the drama just has to keep piling up for me, right)

Dumbass, _hard-ass_, pompous and more vile and _evil_ than _anything_ else within creation Eli has just told me that, "in light of (my) latest escapade last night," I am expected to report to the Plaza for "an emergency princess lesson." (Well, he'd actually sent over some idiot messenger to give me this fancy-shmancy royal stationary letter that he'd written all of this to me upon. Letter, phone call, _or_ in person: This is _still_ bullshnit. Yes. I wrote "bullshnit.")

And what _day_ does this asinine "emergency" lesson happen to fall upon?

TOMORROW!!!!!!!!

MONDAY!!!!!!!!

As in, the same day that I plan to tell the girls absolutely everything.

As in, the same day that I plan to thank (and maybe even sneak in _some_ type of physical contact, as well, like a hug if nothing else -- That is, if I don't chicken out of it) Caleb for his very touching e-mail. (Which the single, most solitary thing within my life right now that acts as a ray of sunshine to help me manage to wake up each day and relive this continued living nightmare all over again.)

As in, THE SAME DAY OF MY ALL-TOO IMPORTANT SWIMMING MEET!!!!!!!!

What is he _thinking??_

Does he _ever?? _(No _wonder_ Mom abdicated from the throne and had left Marsily. She probably _really_ did it just for the sole purpose to get _away_ from him once and for all.)_  
_

Even _if_ I didn't have the lesson on the same day, I _still_ wouldn't want to go (which I clearly don't, and _won't_).

And I'm not going to _now_.

And _Mom's _definitely not even _trying _to help with this, I'm sure. (I don't know, honestly, because I've avoided her at all costs and vice versa all morning up to now. Thank God that I have my own room to hide away in, or else this congested, _very_ awkward silence between us would be _completely_ unbearable.)

But it doesn't matter.

It _doesn't_.

Because read my lips, Mr. Big-Shot-Tyrant-King: You can take that _dire_ princess lesson scheduled for Monday after school, and _shove_ it where the sun don't shine.

Because absolutely nothing, and absolutely no _one_ is going to make me miss out on one of the most important days of my life. (For all the multitude of reasons I'd already listed.)

And you can take _that_ to the bank.

**-- End of Chapter Twenty Nine  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Someone's pissed off, huh? LoL What with all of the underlining and caps she'd written. Poor Will. But yeah! Told you it'd be short and to the point. Don't bother asking questions about it like, "More details! How and why does Eli think he could get away with this?" or something. Stick around for thirty, which will be another long one. . . which I sorely hope will get at least ONE review. Come on. You know you want to. LoL Cuz otherwise I get unmotivated and don't update for like, never. You watch. LoL)**


	30. Chapter Thirty

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note:_ Here it is. We're finally here. (Which isn't really a "finally," because in story, or Will-Time, rather, it's only been a mere handful of days since all of this drama has begun. So I think I'm right on track, realistic wise. Woo! LoL)_

_What am I talking about? I'm sure most of you know, but read on! AND REVIEW (which you will/always do anyways)! Double woo. LoL_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in August 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty**

**Monday, November 6th, 10:13 pm, **

**Presidential Suite of the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel **

My.

Life.

Is.

OVER.

O-V-E-R, OVER!!!!

How can I go on? How can I face the world? What am I going to _do??_

I can't even think straight.

Remember how I'd freaked out when _I'd_ first found out that I was a princess? Yeah. Well, that _pales_ in comparison to now.

Because now, absolutely _everyone_ knows that I'm a princess!!!!

I'm still completely in shock over it. It's not exactly everyday that the world comes to an end, after all (which I _had_ foreshadowed that it would several entries before this one, thank you).

And it's_ especially _not everyday that you see your face -- yourself, _period_ -- on national television, either!!!!

You want to know the _worst_ part? (Yeah, there actually is something worse than that.)

It's all _Eli's_ fault!

I mean, I know that I usually say it's his fault for just about everything around twenty _gazillion_ times per day and entry. But _that's_ only because I'm a budding drama queen (Why not? Although, in _my_ case, now, it's not merely just a saying, since I actually _will _be a blippin' queen), and am going insane.

But no, seriously -- _This_ time it truly_ is _his fault.

Every last bit.

Well, okay, so maybe a small, extremely minute fraction of it was my fault, as well, but the rest definitely all falls upon his shoulders. (_I_ was merely the catalyst. Or, my _actions_ had been, rather.)

Because _Eli's_ the one who "outed" me to be a damned royal!!

Can you believe that? After all the drama and stuff he'd put into ensuring that things in relation to me and his reason for his visit to Heatherfield stay silent or whatever, _he's_ the one who leaked it out to the entire _world_, by this point.

God, what _am_ I going to do?

The_ only_ plus side to any of this is that Eli has (most likely) managed to tar his public image while (unfortunately) having embarrassed me in the process, what with his _outrageous_ display. . .

Let me try to stay focused, not ramble, and get straight to the point with everything that's happened, because I really need to go and make preparations to flee the country and become a _hermit _now.

So much to write down, so little time.

I guess I might as well start with this morning.

I'd never woken up feeling so determined and brave before in my entire life as I had at that moment. I refused to allow myself to back down or have second thoughts about letting the girls _and_ Caleb know everything about what's been going on with me lately.

I even had had it all planned out within my mind on how to handle going about it, too:

Step 1: Find Caleb.

Step 2: Make sure that Caleb is alone and no where _near_ Cornelia and vice versa.

Step 3: Express to Caleb my utmost appreciation for his wonderful gesture, which will hopefully in turn subtly reveal my affection for him if I am unable to bring myself to tell him that, as well.

Step 4: After Caleb hopefully reveals that he feels the same and we decide to talk about it later on or something, I find the girls.

Step 5: Tell the girls that I am a princess.

Step 6: Pray that everything turns out all right.

I was busy running these steps within my mind from the time that I got out of bed and into the shower (while simultaneously feeling thankful that my mother had already gone to work, so I wouldn't have to deal with any sort of nagging from her. I was guessing that she would no longer be at my meet later on, since she was still pretty upset with me. And even though I would have appreciated the support, I wasn't all that bothered about it), until the time that I got onto campus after being dropped off by the limo driver.

Oh, speaking of that.

Because of what had happened on Saturday and my whole punishment thing (which, in comparison to what's now happened to my life, I would eternally welcome in contrast), Eli was actually going to enlist both Ernest and even one of his _own_ bodyguards to mind my care or whatever and "to be on the safe side," he'd said to me over the phone when I'd stupidly answered it before leaving the loft.

In other words: To make sure that I don't do anything "_stupid_" again.

But thankfully, Eli had grown a brain and remembered that that would only raise _further_ questions for me if he had carried out this wish (which is honestly ironic, considering what he'd done to me later on that day, as I will get into in a little bit).

Anyway, as usual, I was only with Sprita as my "stick to me like glue" escort. But I didn't care about any of that. Not at that moment, anyway, since by now I was sort of used to it.

All that mattered to me was my desire and need to get through today, this _one_ day, because I was so convinced that once I had and everything was squared away with all of my loved ones (negating my _mother _among that list, obviously), then I'd be able to better cope with the _rest_ of the crap and harassment Eli might subject me to.

I suppose that she could sense my "no playing games" attitude that I was possessing at that moment (That, and because I was unusually quiet and "non-complaining" for having to ride within the limo yet again, or something like that), because without hesitation or questions did Sprita faintly bow towards me before giving me a bit of space after I'd told her that I really needed a moment alone once I'd successfully managed to find Caleb.

Could you _imagine_ my luck? About actually finding Caleb _alone_, I mean? It's a good thing that I got onto campus pretty early, and moreover I suppose that Caleb had chosen to do the same. I don't honestly know if he shows up to school this early everyday, since most of the time _I'm_ usually either on time or a few seconds to a minute or so late, myself.

And otherwise, he's usually glued to Cornelia's side.

But I wasn't complaining about the lovely outcome, of course.

Besides, Caleb seemed pretty _content_ with being by himself, actually. I mean, because when I'd spotted him (behind the school near one of the quad entrances, by the way), he was just sitting on the ground with his cute and beautiful (Sorry, couldn't resist) brown colored head sort of bowed as though sleeping or in deep thought or what have you.

So, _naturally_, I was then beginning to feel concerned for my hopefully future beloved (and _betrothed_, even, if I was lucky), and was happy that I could be the one to help him feel better since no one _else_ was around to do so. (Yay!)

And then, I _even_ began to think, for about a fraction of a second, anyway, that maybe Caleb was looking so dejected and contemplative at all (_and_ by his lonesome, period) because maybe Cornelia had found out about the e-mail he'd sent to me and got _so _angry and upset that she'd broken up with him.

And as guilty as that made me feel to reflect upon, I also couldn't help but to feel a bit _ecstatic_ by it, for obvious reasons.

It'd certainly would make what I was about to do a whole lot easier, anyway.

So, after clearing my throat and quickly ducking back behind the corner to take a moment to check that my appearance was still as "refined" as I'd managed to make it before leaving for school (wearing my favorite blood red skirt, pink top and my hair actually neat for a change), I bravely made my way over to the absolute love of my life.

Not that I wanted to scare him or anything like that, but it didn't help that I was walking a bit too hurriedly over to him (since I was growing so damned _nervous_), either, since as soon as Caleb heard footsteps he raised his head with a sharp gasp.

Oops. Sorry, sweetheart.

"W-_Will!_ . . . H-hey. . ." he said after getting over his surprise at suddenly having a visitor. As he looked up at me, I'd noticed that his usually vibrant green eyes looked a bit glazed over and empty, and that his handsome, tawny hued face actually appeared unusually pale.

And noticing all of these differences (which of course I, of all people, besides Cornelia, naturally, _would _notice since I _regularly_ commit his face to memory, anyway) instantly made my heart ache.

It had taken all of my willpower not to scoop him up into my arms and hug him to death.

But I figured that, if things had gone well after I'd thanked him for the e-mail, then maybe I could do that and _more_, anyhow.

". . .H-hi, Caleb. Good morning," I'd managed to muster with a small smile, after I'd successfully stopped focusing upon his luscious lips, that is. "S-so! Um. . . What are you doing on campus so early. . . and without Cornelia?"

Good, Will. Throw in that last bit so that you can better gage his reaction, and hopefully force him to spill the beans about how they are no longer together and he wants to be with _you_, instead.

So far, so good (especially since this is like, the first in a _very_ long while that he and I have spoken directly to one another. A good omen, _I'd_ say).

Caleb (surprisingly) let out a soft sigh at this and ran a strong hand through his brown locks before he began to get up. (Just make sure that you pay attention to my attire and "pretty" appearance as you do so, though.)

"I. . . well, I don't _always_ come to campus early, but today I. . . just _wanted_ to," he replied, his voice sounding discouraged and tired. "That is, I mean that I just wanted some alone time, since otherwise Hay Lin and her family are usually up and about bright and early, themselves, and you know how energetic _she_ is -- _Especially_ within the morning."

Didn't answer my added inquiry about Cornelia (at least not verbally, anyway), but I'd decided not to push it. Who _knew_ exactly how much "Alone Time" I had left with this dreamy and wonderful creature, before Hay Lin and the others arrived and spotted us together?

So I just nodded slowly and waved my hand at Caleb to indicate that he didn't have to get up from his spot on my account (since I'd planned on sitting next to him to make things much more "intimate").

"Ah. Well. . . it's good to have some 'down-time' from time to time, or. . . at least someone you feel comfortable enough to share it with -- _Trust_ me," I said a bit tactfully with another tiny, crooked smile, awkwardly pushing a strand of my tidy red hair behind my ear before just as awkwardly taking a seat next to the ex-Rebel Leader.

I nearly passed out right then and there the moment that I'd inhaled the scent of his familiar and extremely intoxicating cologne. I began to hope that he would in turn get drunk off of _my_ aroma (of vanilla and honey perfume that I'd remembered to dabble onto my neck and wrists before leaving the loft, just for this special occasion) the way that I was now becoming over _his_.

I felt my cheeks flush with increased heat at the coupled thought and realization that I'd just been staring at him with what was _probably_ a half lidded, goofy looking expression. And it didn't help that I'd just finished talking about how wonderful it is to be with someone you can just be yourself with. I mean, although I _had_ clearly been hinting a little bit that I was referring to him, I was honestly more so thinking about how _I've_ gotten zero privacy and time to myself since the whole of my being a princess had been discovered.

_Plus_, it was a bit embarrassing to just _sit_ there, looking like a _moron_ next to the Metamoor native.

But even though I was now beginning to worry that Caleb was then thinking that I was a _loon_ or something, it didn't matter so much, because I'd reasoned with myself that even if he _was_ pondering that, he _also _still apparently had feelings for me, regardless.

I just had to maintain my confidence and that (slight) knowledge, and everything would be fine.

". . .Y-yeah, I'll _bet_," I heard Caleb say a bit shakily in response, slowly moving his hand that was closest to me up onto his knee a moment, before just as slowly settling upon folding his arms across his chest. That was a good sign, right? I mean, since it was clear that he was feeling a bit nervous as _I _was at that moment to be alone together.

. . . _Or_, was it _because_ he was alone with me that he was acting that way? I mean, because he didn't want me there, or maybe _anyone_ for that matter, and wanted to continue to be by himself before more students showed up onto campus and stuff?

_Calm down, Will! Don't blow this one chance you have at decidedly confessing your true feelings for this Greek God of a man next to you!_ I silently scolded myself while coughing gently.

But then, I realized, if I really _was_ just overreacting, then how come Caleb _also_ suddenly sounded a bit _embittered_, as well?

Only one way to find out.

"Um. . . Am I bothering you? I mean, are you all right? Because if you want, I can just --" I began awkwardly, before regrettably placing both of my hands behind myself to prop my body up.

"-- N-no! I mean, you're fine, Will. It's okay," Caleb hurriedly interrupted me, swiftly placing a hand upon my arm to stop me.

_Squee!!_

"Oh. . . well, all right, then," I said, trying my best to downplay my excitement, both at the fact that he wanted me to stay and that he was actually _touching_ me.

"So. . . where is. . . um, Sprite?" Caleb asked, obviously straining his brain to find something to talk about as he had to sadly release my arm.

I couldn't help but to giggle at this, though. (About the mispronunciation of Sprita's name, not about losing Caleb's contact.)

"Her name is _Sprita_, Caleb -- Close, though," I corrected with a more generous smile this time, growing a bit more comfortable. "She's here, of course, but. . . she went to the bathroom. Yeah."

Nice save.

Caleb nodded in understanding, his cheeks, although still a bit blanched (and his eyes still appearing a bit hollow), noticeably grew a bit red, most likely in embarrassment. (How _cute!_)

"Right, right. Sorry," he apologized softly, his voice sounding exhausted again. I figured that now was as good as any time to bring up the e-mail, before I managed to _bore_ him to death or something, feelings for me or not.

". . .Hey, uh. . . I'm actually glad to see you this morning," I revealed cautiously, slowly licking my lips as I pivoted my body towards the older brunet next to me (whom, I pleasantly noticed, had seemed to zero in upon my lip action. It's a good thing that I'd put on some lip gloss today, as well).

_You can do it, Will!_ I thought, trying to psych myself up for the hopefully positive outcome of what I was about to do.

Caleb momentarily raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting this. (Why the hell not, are you serious? I _worship_ him! But I suppose I could understand how he could have been surprised, since I definitely don't _act_ like I worship him, and act more like I don't _see_ him, let alone like him, for my own protection and sake. Sorry, my lovely!)

"Why? For what?" he asked, his voice still a bit on the bland side, although he did at least seem intrigued and curious to know what was up.

So, I began to tell him.

"Yeah. . . I mean, because I've just been so busy this past week with. . . _family _stuff, that I never got a chance to talk to you," I revealed, emotionally diving in, so to speak, when I willed myself to inch a bit closer to Caleb and maintain eye contact while plastering as mesmerizing a smile that I could manage upon my face.

Caleb, in contrast, seemed a bit overwhelmed by my sudden boldness, because while he didn't move his body away, I did catch him naturally move his head back a little bit as he gruffly cleared his throat and said, ". . .Talk to me? What about? Is it Guardian related?"

Well, technically, yes, honey. _Now_ it is, anyway. But that can wait, until after I've completed steps three through five.

I just shook my head at this, though, and took a deep breath.

"No, Caleb. . . What I wanted to talk to you about was. . . I mean, what I wanted to say for the _longest_ now, actually, was --"

"--_There_ you are, my _fantastic _guy, you!"

Oh, no. _Noooo_, no no.

This can't be happening. What _perfect_ timing! And _she_ isn't even the one with mind reading capabilities!!

I didn't even bother to look up, because of course I knew that it was Cornelia, even_ if _I couldn't recognize her voice. Just her unintentionally having rubbed in the fact that Caleb was apparently still her "fantastic guy" was enough for me.

I felt more annoyed and supremely aggravated more than anything else right at that moment, and honestly wanted to _wallop_ Cornelia square within the face, despite the fact that she is my friend.

But, come _on!_ Could you _blame_ me? Precisely when I was about to tell my aspiring future husband that I loved his heartfelt message to me, and that I was_ in_ love with _him_ and always have been, his watchdog of a girlfriend has to show up!

What, did she have some sort of tracking device implanted within his body without his knowledge, or something? Because this was getting ridiculous and felt like some soap opera or story people have been reading (and have been for ages, it felt like), waiting for the two main protagonists to finally get together but they _still_ haven't.

Too much drama and buildup!

"_Cornelia!_ H-hey! G-good morning!" Caleb breathed with a start as he quickly moved away from me and got up to greet his girlfriend. Evidently he was super flustered in the way that I should have been then, what with his newfound jitters.

_I_, however, wasn't in _any_ mood to do any sort of "cover up" and play nice with the taller blonde, as she seemed to loom over me while promptly showering happy kisses all over Caleb's now ripe tomato-tinted face as she did so.

I know that she wasn't doing it on purpose or using it as a way to rub anything in my face in the way that _Mary_ would have or whatever (if ever she'd managed to win Matt's heart or something like that by some miracle, that is).

But it -- _all_ of it, was just _extremely_ poor timing, as I'd said.

And there was absolutely no way that I could have stayed there to further endure the affection that Caleb was then receiving and what I wish _I_ could give to him in lucky Cornelia's stead.

So, I began to pull myself back up onto my feet to leave and just head into homeroom without a word or something.

Unfortunately for me, though, as I did so, Cornelia then turns her attention onto me after taking notice of my neat attire and goes, "Hey, '_Fancy Lady!_' Looking great! Have a _date_ or something?"

"Huh? No, Cornelia. No date. . . no _nothing_," I added a bit _too_ miserably while trying to hide my disappointment and growing anger towards her.

And then, of course that was when the rest of the girls (along with several other fellow students) had to show up, as well. I mean, I know that I'd said that I wanted to find them all, anyway, and at once so that I could just get telling them about my visit with Elyon and my being a princess and such over with.

But right at that moment, I'd have preferred to go and punch a wall, instead.

"Yo, Cornelia! Hey, Caleb! And hello, Miss 'Ghost-Lady-Who-_Totally_-Got-Busted-By-Her-Mom-When-She-Tried-To-Go-On-A-Secret-Romantic-Rendezvous-With-Her-Ex-Boyfriend!'" Irma greeted jokingly as she made it to my side before Hay Lin and a straggling Taranee had, wrapping both of her arms around my neck to give me a generous hug.

_That_, at least, made me feel minutely better.

That is, until I'd realized what she had just said. I'd honestly completely forgotten about the whole "_Where in the World is Will Vandom?_" trick that I'd accomplished over the weekend, and moreover that _obviously _my mom would have contacted one or all of the girls to see if I wasn't with any of them.

Duh. Don't know how I didn't think of that earlier on and realized that I'd have to deal with this from the other Guardians on top of everything else.

Just really sucked that Irma had to announce it in the way that she had. I mean, the whole "secret, romantic rendezvous" thing. And in front of _Caleb_ of all people. _Now_ the guy's going to think that I really _am_ back together with Matt! (But at _this_ point, since everyone_ else_ within the planet already seems to believe that I am, I might as _well_ be.)

Anyway, I looked at Caleb within the corner of my eye to evaluate his current expression and see if I couldn't guess what he might have been thinking at that moment, but he was unfortunately just busy looking straight at Cornelia, who in turn was busy looking at _me_ with ecstatic intrigue over the newfound issue.

"_Yeah_, no _kidding!_ What _was _that all about? Irma interrupted my studying for my French test for later on today with her phone call about how your mother was in _hysterics_, wondering where you could be. _Was_ it really a date with Matt or what? I mean, since you two do seem a little bit closer lately, I've noticed. And why didn't you let _us_ in on your apparent reunion?" she regrettably had to ask, and with a mischievous grin. She then wrapped both of her arms around Caleb's waist and continued to peer at me with an expectant gaze as she rested her blonde, flawless head upon his strong shoulder.

I wanted to punch her out.

Instead, however, now "trapped" within the middle of the circle that had formed around me as the girls settled within their spots and waited for an explanation, I just weakly managed, "It wasn't anything _like_ that, Cornelia -- You guys. But it _is_ something that I actually need to talk to you about later. . ."

There. _See? _Even though I was feeling more and more upset that I didn't get to come clean about _one_ thing, I was _still_ going to stick to my guns by coming clean about _another_.

While most of the girls (and even Caleb, a bit, I'd noticed) appeared honestly perplexed or curious as to what I meant, _Cornelia_, on the other hand, suddenly looked as though I'd just told her that she'd won the _lottery_ or something. (Like she'd _need_ to, since she's always been on the rather "well off" side.)

"_Oh!_ Speaking of 'needing to talk' about something! You guys will _not_ believe what my _unbelievably_ sweet boyfriend did!" she gushed enthusiastically, planting a tender kiss upon Caleb's cheek for good measure, which (thankfully) resulted in both Irma and Hay Lin rolling their eyes and mockingly wretch in the process. (Good job, girls. _My_ sentiments, exactly.)

"No, _really_, Cornelia? _You_ have a _boyfriend?_ Because I honestly could not tell, from all of the excessive, _slobbering _kisses you keep _painting_ all over his face!" Irma jested with flat and expertly timed sarcasm, smirking broadly both at the now frowning blonde and visibly abashed brunet standing at her side.

"_Tch!_ Whatever! _Jealous_, much, because _you_ don't have one, anymore! Well, you _could_ have one now, if you'd just admit that you have a _thing_ for Eddie Benoni and just go out with him already," Cornelia countered heatedly, although her cool blue eyes remained soft.

Irma immediately grew irritated, herself, at this, her softly tanned cheeks instantly earning its own natural rouge.

"_What?_ Now_ that_, Cornelia, has got to be _the_ dumbest, most _far-fetched_ thing you have _ever_ said to me in all the years we have known each other!" she cried, shaking a fist towards the grinning Earth Guardian (while the rest of us sort of followed suit, since what Cornelia said proclaimed _had _been the truth). "Because Eddie is the absolute, _last_ person whom I would _ever_ --"

"-- Yeah, _okay!_ Sure! We've all heard this song before, Irma: You _don't_ like Eddie. Fine," Cornelia hurriedly interrupted with a dismissive wave of her slender peaches and cream hand, still smiling. "_Anyway!_ I said that Caleb is the sweetest guy on the planet, because you will _never _guess what he'd done for me over the weekend!"

I didn't know why (not exactly, anyway), but I was suddenly beginning to feel a bit queasy and with an overwhelming feeling of dread. And I usually feel this way right before taking a really hard math test, or before an upcoming, really hairy Guardian mission or something.

But obviously this current sensation could apply to neither at that moment.

What I did know, though, was that it clearly had to do with what Cornelia was saying. But I was so generally used to hearing her spout excessively over the things that Caleb might have done for her in the past that I no longer felt anything towards it as an reaction whenever she would (even though on_ this_ particular morning I had been in the middle of confessing my affection towards him).

So naturally, I didn't entirely understand why I was beginning to feel this way.

No worries, though, because I was about to find out.

"No, Cornelia, but as _always_, I am oh so sure that you'll let us know, right?" Hay Lin teased with a jolly giggle, nudging the older girl's side for emphasis.

Cornelia didn't seem phased by it as she merely continued on just as happily.

"Well, as you guys know, I was pretty bummed and grouchy last week about my having taken third within my preliminaries, right?"

"You?_ Grouchy?_ No!" Irma gasped in playful affect as I moved from out of the circle to stand by a curiously mute Taranee, which wasn't really "harmful" to do, since I was going to tell her all about my newly chaotic life in a little while, anyway.

But _again_, she didn't seem to be within any mindset to. . . well, look into _my_ mind. And as lousy and as _nauseous_ as I was feeling then, I still made a mental note to myself to ask her what was _her_ deal lately.

As her best friend, it was my job, right? And see? I really_ am _improving upon being less self absorbed, even while within the middle of an emotional crisis.

Go, me.

_Anyway_, while I was then focused upon that, that was when my ears regrettably heard Cornelia say:

"_Zip_ it, Miss 'In _Denial!'_ Anyway! Yeah, _okay!_ So I _was_ a bit on edge last week. But I'm better now, _especially_ after getting the _cutest_ e-mail from my _equally_ cute stud! Here, I _totally_ printed it out to read to you guys!"

My mind and paranoia was instantly beginning to act up right then, as soon as I heard the words "cute," "e-mail" and that it was from Caleb.

Because somehow, deep down, I just had this horrible feeling that. . .

"Here, _listen!_" Cornelia said eagerly as more and more other students began to show up and idly pass by while she pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper from out of her front jeans pocket.

"U-uh, C-Cornelia, _please_. You _really_ don't have to read that -- _Seriously_," Caleb urged in embarrassment, looking about our surroundings and then at me for a nanosecond, before focusing back upon his happy girlfriend.

But Cornelia wouldn't hear any of it.

"_Nonsense_, sweetie! It was _very _poetic, beautiful, and well appreciated what you'd written to me!" she kindly countered, leaning forward to lightly kiss the visibly bothered young man upon his nose before clearing her throat. "Now, you guys! Check _this_ out: 'To My Great Guardian. Hey, You have _no_ idea how worried I am about you. I mean, first the Halloween Ball, and now _this_. Someone as _wonderful _as you doesn't deserve to have things like this happen. . . And I have to apologize that I haven't really been there for you. There's no excuse for it, because you mean _a lot_ to me. I _should_ tell you that everyday. . . but you know how I am. Expressing emotions other than _anger_ or whatever isn't something I'm very good at. . . But I just wanted to let you know now that I am here for you and always _will_ be. . . _Much_ love, Caleb.' Isn't that just the _greatest_ thing you've ever _heard? _I mean, as soon as I called him up to thank him after I'd read it, he told me how he meant to send it to me _sooner_, but got _overwhelmed_ by the computer he was using! _Adorable!_"

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see straight (which was a _good_ thing, since I could still deplorably make out Cornelia's silhouette moving over to directly in front of Caleb to most likely kiss him _yet_ again). And I _desperately_ wanted to leave to go throw up and cry my eyes out in peace.

I just couldn't believe it. I felt so_ foolish_. About the _only_ thing that I _had_ been right about presuming was that Caleb really _had_ been confused and whatever with how to efficiently operate the computer and send e-mails and such. Because he blatantly _never_ meant to send it to _me. _He just sent it to me by _accident_, probably because both mine and Cornelia's e-mail addresses begin with an "F." Mine is "froggielover," and _hers_ is "forestmaiden" (clearly for her dominion over Earth).

So, clearly when he went to send the message he hadn't realized that he'd sent it to _my_ mailbox instead.

_God!_ I am _such_ an idiot! How could I have believed, even for a _second_, that Caleb actually _noticed_ me, let alone was in _love _with me? At least _now_ I know why he was looking and acting so awkward with me: Because he felt _embarrassed_ and physically ill for having sent such a personal and wonderful note to me instead of the apparent love of his life that is _Cornelia!_

And I was about to confess _everything_ to him!

That's about the _only _thing I am happy and grateful to Cornelia for, that she'd unintentionally stopped me before I could.

But now, I just wanted to die. I truly and wholeheartedly did. And the way my heart was feeling at that moment, I very well _could_ have.

"I mean, _seriously_, girls! I have _definitely_ found me a keeper with this one! Pointing out how _lousy_ I felt for a while, because Will had worn the same gown as I at Eddie's Halloween Ball, and then the 'this' being my stupid preliminaries? You guys can _totally_ say hello to the future Mrs. Caleb 'Virgilio!'" cried Cornelia with abundant joy resounding within her increasingly irritating voice, as she kissed Caleb for the umpteenth time and the others (negating Taranee and myself) playfully gagged before giggling.

That was all I could take. Before I could stop myself, I let out a frustrated cry that unfortunately managed to earn a few curious glances from passersby and obviously the girls in the process.

"Whoa! _Oookay!_ I'm _just_ as grossed out by this excessive 'P.D.A. Session' as anyone _else_, Will, but. . . _Wow!_" Irma smiled softly, as Hay Lin and Taranee gazed at me with concern and Cornelia peered at me with a frown. Who the hell _cared? _I could have slapped that frown right off of her face right then, I was that upset.

"Yeah! What's _your_ dilemma? Now that I've gotten my _fantastic _news out of the way, we can finally get down to what's been _your_ drama for _ages _once and for all," she said with faint annoyance, putting Caleb's printed out e-mail back into her pocket.

And seeing that, and then hearing her attitude and disdain at my startled outburst was the final straw.

Because before I knew what I was saying and doing, I could hear myself unexpectedly say, "You wanna know what my 'drama' is, Cornelia? _Okay!_ I'll tell you! I am _so_ damned sick and _tired_ of all of the nosy questions I keep getting -- From _everyone! _I get enough of them from my mother, and now my annoying_ uncle_, and so I don't need them from _you!_ _Especially_ not from you!" I exploded, tugging a bit too roughly upon my formerly neat hair with both hands while giving the justifiably taken aback blonde a hardened glare. "My life is so _unbelievably _chaotic and unrecognizable right now that I don't need to constantly be bombarded by your damned _inquiries_ any time you _see _me in person on _online!_ Like it's _such_ a freaking crime, as you'd put it, to behave differently! _Ugh!_"

And before anyone could say or do anything, I turned on my heel and stormed off towards the front of the school to find Sprita (who apparently had been patiently waiting for me around the corner, and most likely had heard everything as a result – But who cares?) and head into homeroom.

I know. It was a _really _knucklehead move on my part, to compile even _more_ issues that my friends and I already have to date. And I know that this action I'd taken was the complete opposite of the one I'd originally paved the way for myself to pursue.

But the next time _your_ heart gets ripped into pieces, _then_ come back to me and tell me that _you_ would have been able to keep your emotions in check.

But, no. It didn't end _there_. My day had (ostensibly) gotten _a lot _worse from there.

Because, as expected, Irma and not even _Hay Lin_ (who's usually very forgiving and understanding) would even acknowledge my existence, let alone talk to or look at me during gym class later on. Which really sucked, because we were beginning our Circuit Training unit, and that's only bearable to do if you have your friends to help distract from the boredom and tedious nature of it all.

But I unfortunately had to go through it solo (well, with Sprita there as well, I guess), much to Mary's onlooking delight, I'm sure.

As upset as I was still feeling for the rest of that morning (well, the entire day, period), I was _also_ feeling tremendously lonely and guilty, and wished that I could have run up to them and apologized.

And I would have. I really would have. But besides the steadily bubbling choler that continued to swirl within my insides, I would have had to explain to them the true reason I was upset at that moment. And now that things had gone so _completely _south and I had utterly misinterpreted Caleb's actions (or lack thereof), it would have been a complete disaster to do so.

Because then either Irma, Hay Lin, or both of them at once would have made me feel even worse and as though I really am the home-wrecker that I'd thought in passing how_ Elyon_ would have if ever I'd told _her_ the truth about Caleb, as well.

So, _yet_ again, I had to keep silent.

Sucked to get dressed (into spare, leftover clothes that I'd blessedly left within my locker and had forgotten to bring home with me one time, while I'd stayed after school for extra curricular activities. No point in keeping on my "fancy" clothes to help keep a steady reminder at my massive rejection and broken heart) since I'd sadly done so and then left without a word or even a glance from Hay Lin or Irma. . .

Know what's funny, though? Not really funny, but something I hadn't really expected? Finding a consoling ear within Sprita. That is, the earlier today, before I had gym and stuff and the two of us were heading to study hall (which killed me to have to do, for obvious reasons. You can imagine how much "fun" I'd had in English class. Thank God Caleb had remembered his book today, though. Never thought I'd hear myself say _that_) she finally spoke to me, because she hadn't_ really_ spoken much that entire morning thus far, which I didn't care much about since I'd only wanted to talk to the girls again but obviously couldn't. (I guess it was probably because of what happened to me earlier, and just wanted to give me respect and space, even though she can never leave my side, basically.)

It was most likely because she could sense that I didn't want to get to class. Or maybe it was probably because she was aware that Caleb would be there and I obviously no longer wished to see him ever again, I was still that mortified.

Either "suspicion" didn't matter.

Because she had confirmed them when she, while helping me carry some of my books, goes, ". . .I am sorry that things did not turn out the way that you'd planned, your hi -- I mean, Will," she said with a delicate sympathy as we rounded the corner together.

I looked at her with an uninterested gaze, trying to pretend for a bit that I did not understand to what she was referring.

She only nodded at this before continuing.

"Yes. I am. And I do know what I'm talking about -- I could tell that you had feelings for that Caleb fellow ever since last week at lunchtime," she revealed as fragilely as she could, seeming to study my expression to see how I felt about hearing that someone -- _anyone_ knew my secret.

"I obviously will not say a word, even if I_ wanted_ to. It's just, I suppose you can say, that within my line of work one is able to pick up on many a thing that most others cannot. Like, for instance, how you had made it an _adamant_ point to avoid any and all sort of eye contact and acknowledging of the young man the entire duration of that luncheon. That is _entirely_ too much effort and energy expended for just one individual unless there was something _more_ to it. . ." Sprita finished just as we'd reached the cafeteria for study hall.

I know she obviously meant well. And I honestly appreciated the sympathy in a way. But since I was about to go and share a space with him for the next forty-two minutes, the only thing that _would _make me feel better if I could not have Caleb's love (which I clearly didn't or ever would), was to just go home.

Regardless, I merely sighed heavily and stared, with deadpan eyes, down at my hand that was clutching the cafeteria door handle.

". . .Yeah, well. . . I don't really suppose any of that matters anymore," I responded hollowly before slowly pulling open the door.

I don't really want to write anything more about Caleb, or how agonizing it was for me to sit there with him just several feet away from me (or how it'd been just as gut-wrenching to sit directly at his_ side_ in English, and could still smell his wonderful cologne).

I'm beginning to feel greatly ill and have new tears forming once more the more that I do think of him. And since I'm not at home and am forced to "stick things out" over here at the Plaza for the rest of the night, I'd rather not start blubbering in front of Eli or my mother, of all people.

So, if you'll forgive me (which it doesn't matter, because you're just an inanimate object), I'll just fast forward to after school, since lunchtime had been _just _as horrific. That is, Sprita and I ended up eating alone, since Cornelia (most likely) had engineered it so that our seats -- The entire table, period, would be filled up without any room left for either of us once we got there.

At least Taranee seemed a bit perturbed by that when I looked at her in passing before managing to find a seat in the far corner of the cafeteria (in the "Unpopular" Sector, no less. Suppose it's appropriate). But then again, she's been looking "bothered" for _eons_ now, as we all know. (And by "we," I just mean me. . . and I guess you, journal. Whatever.)

Hmm. . . ever since after the Halloween Ball, actually. Come to think of it, I actually haven't seen her with Nigel much since that time, either. I wonder if _that_ has anything to do with her newfound woebegone, like maybe they'd broken up.

I hope _not_, even though _she's_ also mad at me, apparently. She's _still _my good friend and I still love her -- _All_ of them. I'd hate for her to have been feeling what _I_ now am over my "loss" of Caleb. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone, no matter _how_ upset I was at them. . .

If I live through all of this newfound drama within my life, then I will at _least_ try to make amends with _Taranee_ first, and focus upon helping her either get back together with Nigel or find someone new, although I highly doubt that she'd _want_ anyone else since she's been _madly _in love with the lucky guy for the _longest_.

But, hey. I am a princess now. So maybe I can pull a few strings and hook her up with a few new royal suitors or something. _That_ ought to make her forget about "Nigel, who?"

Anyway. Back to after school. . . when it all went down.

Remember how it was the day of my swim meet, and _also_ when my stupid "emergency princess lesson" were both taking place? And remember how I'd last written that I was _not_ going to bail out on my teammates for what, some _stupid lecture_ from Eli? I was sure that there would be _plenty_ of those in the future, anyway. But there would only be _one_ chance at taking first within an event that was far more important to me.

So, yes. I had also planned ahead for _this_, and how I was going to ditch both Sprita _and_ Ernest in order to evade getting shuttled into the awaiting limo to go see Eli at the Plaza as earlier instructed.

It was actually a pretty simple, yet highly effective (and _disgusting_) tactic: Play nice.

That is, I did the only thing I could think of. Since I don't have the intuitive blessings that Irma has (and I obviously could no longer ask for her assistance), I had a "Plan B." See, I stole a few tea bags from my mother and brewed some tea to put in one of her thermoses before leaving this morning.

I know: "What's so ingenious about _that?_"

It _is _because it wasn't _normal_ tea. It was this really gross (well, not _taste_-wise, according to my mom) diuretic tea that Mom sometimes takes to help her. . . _you_ know.

"Stay regular."

Eww, I know.

But since I knew for fact that it works like _clockwork_ within an _hour_ or so of taking it (again, courtesy of my mom -- _Gross_, again, yep), and that also Sprita seemed to really fancy tea (judging by the fact that that seems to be about the _only _thing she drinks, from what I've seen while with her and food or whatever is involved), this was _sure_ to work.

And work it had.

I mean, there was a bit of reluctance at first on her part to take the cup from me after I'd poured her some, but that was probably because she didn't want to seem too eager to indulge within one of her obviously favorite treats and "weaknesses." But once Sprita taken her first helping and practically downed it, she'd gotten over all of those pretenses and commented on how "enriching" this brand's flavor was as I poured her another cup full (and I had purposely bought another beverage and pretended like I'd forgotten that I'd brought tea from home to drink instead. But after Sprita had her second cup, I don't really think she would have cared if I hadn't drank anything at all).

And, okay. Yeah. So I _did_ feel more blameworthy, or blameworthy, period, than I'd initially expected myself to. Because I hadn't planned or counted on her to be so nice and understanding earlier, you know? So now I sort of felt as though I was betraying her trust or something in some way.

But I continued to put on a good face for the female escort throughout it all. I _had_ to. It was either do this, or I'd _never_ be able to get to the meet on time, if at all.

However, when an hour and a bit more had passed, and Sprita hadn't once excused herself to use the bathroom, I started to get worried. And when the last period of the day, math class, had come and was almost finished (with Matt's absence, I might add. I suppose maybe the time difference between Earth and Metamoor had given him _Jet-lag_ of some kind, I don't know. Either way, it was just as well that he wasn't there, even though I had wanted to see him and have his support later on at the meet, because I didn't really know what to say that would make him believe how sorry I was that everyone within my family had it out for him now), I was _really_ worried.

Thankfully, though, right when I was about to try to feed her some sort of excuse that she'd hopefully buy so that I could lose her and quickly catch the bus to the Rec Center, Sprita suddenly clutches her stomach and hunches over a little bit before going, "U-uh. . . Hmm. . . Will you excuse me a moment, Will? I actually have to use the restroom a moment before we leave for the Plaza. If you could please just wait right outside the door here for me, I would _greatly_ appreciate it!"

And before I could respond, into the nearest bathroom she could find did Sprita disappear. As soon as she had, and I'd managed to stop giggling for a little bit (How sad is _that_, that the first sort of joy that I'd felt all day was because of someone's _overactive bladder?_), I bolted down the nearest flight of stairs and out the back entrance of the school so that Ernest (whom I'm sure was lurking around, of course) could not see me.

And since I'd changed my clothes and put on the Hoodie that I'd had with me over my head so that I _nor_ my red hair would be able to attract any unwanted attention within the growing sea of ecstatic fellow students continuously shuffling out of the school at the same time, I was feeling pretty confident.

Thank God my sureness had paid off, because once I'd made it a block away from the school in the opposite direction that I knew the limousine would have been waiting for me and I'd still seemed to have been unseen, I pulled off the Hoodie as soon as I'd reached the bus stop that I knew would head towards the Rec Center (as I've taken it several times before in the past).

Sucks that I couldn't have just taken the swim team bus with the rest of my fellow mates and Coach Gracie, but I knew that once Sprita had regained control of her normal functioning urinary bladder and both she and Ernest had realized what had happened, they might have gone to search it if the bus hadn't left by then, anyway.

But at least by doing that, taking the public transportation bus instead, I mean, it would have guaranteed that I would _definitely_ be there competing within my events.

And now, here comes the worst, most _horrifying_ part of _the_ most disastrous day of my life.

I got there to the Rec Center, no problem, all right? And I'd even changed into my swimsuit and greeted my teammates and Gracie, letting them know that it'd be impossible for me to let them down, after first having made up some excuse that I'd gotten held up by my math teacher as for the reason why I wasn't on the bus with the rest of them.

So, fine. That was cake. And even though I knew that, by that time Sprita and company were probably searching the entire perimeter or whatever to make sure that I wasn't still on campus before maybe coming over here to come retrieve me, I didn't care.

Because even if Eli and everyone _did_ show up, it'd be within the middle of the meet. King or not, it's not like he could just interrupt or completely cease the entire competition even_ if_ he'd managed to spot me among the contenders.

And so, with that knowledge on my side, I was actually beginning to feel a tiny fraction better about my day, as well as about myself (since my self esteem had supremely plummeted as a result of the massive rejection dealt to me, of course).

Swimming always makes everything better, you understand. (At least it does for me, anyway.)

But I was feeling pretty down that, since we'd all fought (or I'd fought with them, rather), the girls naturally would no longer be there to come support me, and obviously neither would Matt (but only because he had been absent from school, though).

Not so.

Well, I mean, I'm sure that it wasn't for _my _sake any longer, but there all four (well, five, if you include Caleb, which did nothing to comfort me) of them were, seated within the bleachers with all of the other bystanders, cheering and smiling down at the rest of the swimmers.

Even Matt was surprisingly there. I suppose maybe he just couldn't handle a first day back to school after the chaotic weekend and falling out between the two of us, but still wanted to watch some of his other friends compete.

But regardless of the individual reasons for all of them having showed up, it still meant a great deal to me to at least have their presence there even if it wasn't precisely for my benefit anymore.

No Mom, though. But that's all right, because even without our "hating" one another at the moment, she _had_ said, I remember, that she would have most likely made it there a bit late because of work (and again, like I said before, because her boss, Gloria, is a slave driver).

That is, no Mom until. . .

Well, let me first just go in order of events. And in order of events during the meet, that is (in case you were interested, which I doubt):

100 yard (yd) Freestyle

50 yd Butterfly

50 yd Breaststroke

50 yd Freestyle

100 yd Individual Medley _Order: Fly, Back, Breast, Free)_

100 yd Medley Relay _Order: Back, Breast, Fly, Free)_

200 yd Freestyle

50 yd Backstroke

200 yd Freestyle Relay

I was competing within the fifty yard breaststroke, the one hundred yard medley relay, and the two hundred yard freestyle. And I was pretty confident going into every event, because I'd practiced and trained really hard for it, you know? (_Duh_.)

But I was admittedly nervous about my last event, even though I'm one of the fastest swimmers on the team, and I usually demolish my competition where the freestyle is concerned. I usually do the fifty yard freestyle more often than not to help capitalize upon my quickness within the water, you know? But I wanted to take a step up and away from the "safety net" of it all and challenge myself by going the distance, I guess you could say (both figuratively and literally) by seeing if I couldn't at the very least get silver within the event.

A tall order, of course, since it was my first time tackling the event within an actual competition, anyway (Well, one this "serious"), but I was determined to believe that I could accomplish it.

Too bad I never got to prove myself right or wrong.

Why?

Because I only got to compete within the breaststroke before I got busted. And boy, did I _ever_ get busted.

I'd gotten dried off and all of that, and ecstatic that I'd taken first within the event, and celebrating the victory with my teammates on the side while waiting for the freestyle competition to be finished.

And as it was finishing up and I was giving myself the usual little pep talk that I do before I go compete, I went up back to the pool and took my place upon the appropriate platform. And I can remember hearing people say my name in the chanting variety as I put my goggles back on, you know? That's expected (not to sound cocky).

And then, I _also_ remember hearing the referee begin to say, over the P.A. system, his usual, "Swimmers, take your mark. . . get set. . . go!" spiel. (Well, not the "go!" part, since the blaring horn usually takes care of that for us, to know that we should dive into the pool and begin swimming, but you get me.)

But all that I, or anyone else, ever heard was the "on your mark, get set" part. Because, I don't know how, but you-know-who managed to raise his voice so _unbelievably_ high, without the aid of microphones or what have you, over all of the _rest_ of the commotion within the vicinity as he screeches, "PRINCESS WILHELMINA!!!! YOU _WILL_ GET DOWN FROM THERE AT _ONCE!!!!_"

_Needless_ to say, I did. Not because he'd asked (or commanded, rather), though.

No.

But because as soon as I'd heard his familiar voice screaming at me (that had immediately ceased everyone else's speaking and other such noise, making everything _deathly silent_ in seconds, I might add), I naturally looked up immediately as I straightened up my posture from my starting position.

Unfortunately, however (_and _fortunately, I suppose, depending upon how you look at it), I only caught a brief glimpse of Eli from clear across the pool near the entrance of the Rec Center, looking positively_ irate_ while surrounded by his usual royal posse. . . and a _mortified_ looking _Mom_.

And that was that (all that I'd seen, I mean), before I'd let out a sharp gasp of surprise and discountenance, lost my balance and plunged awkwardly into the water.

But that's all right. That I didn't get a really good, longer look at what had happened, that is. I still know how it looked, anyway.

How come? Why, because IT WAS ALL OVER THE DAMNED EVENING AND BREAKING NEWS!!!!!!

How nice for me, that my first, official global debut as the new princess of Marsily has me screaming and falling into the pool like an _incompetent fool_.

But no, it gets better. Because after I was scooped out of the pool, the meet was temporarily postponed (which I'm _sure_ my teammates all absolutely _love_ me for now) and I was immediately bused over to the Plaza with Eli and Mom (with her verbally tearing his head off the _entire_ way, about if he'd realized or had even the slightest inclination of what he'd just done. But even that didn't make me feel one iota better about the horribly unfortunate circumstances), as soon as you'd turn on the radio or television there was nothing _but_ talk, talk, TALK about what had happened!

_Told_ you that word travels _extremely_ fast within this "lovely" seaside town of mine.

And this is where I have been since then, around seven hours ago.

And within that such a small portion of time, there have been a continuous collective of media reporters, all huddled and swarming around the outside of the Plaza, I heard, who are all just _dying_ to get new photographs and statements from me.

Yeah, _right!_ Like I'd even _begin_ to entertain that notion, let alone go _through_ with it!

Not like I could, anyhow, since I am under strict orders to stay put within the suite with Mom, who is _still_ burning mad and frustrated at Eli for what he's done.

_Eli_, on other hand, is no longer mad (at least, not on the surface, anyhow), but seems increasingly flustered by it all, as he refuses to sit still ever since our arrival and has entered and left every room within this gigantic presidential suite repeatedly.

He _also_ hasn't said a word, either, since his embarrassing outburst back at the Rec Center. All he _has_ done, besides the pacing about, dismissing every bodyguard from the room to ensure that the outside perimeters are still secure, and (probably not) listening to Mom go on and on about how stupid his actions had been and he had no one to blame for this but himself, was turn on every television within the suite so that he could catch the latest updates about me as he passed through each room.

What happened to all that talk of maintaining one's composure and such?

As for my mother, _she_ seemed to have completely forgotten that she'd been previously upset with me, herself, because she's been coming into this bedroom towards the back of the suite that I've settled into to write this entry to ask if I'm all right and need anything.

Yeah, I do, Mom, actually: A new _identity_, since this _old_ one of mine is now completely _ruined_.

I'm _serious_. You should see and hear the things the news people have been reporting about me. I've been trying to tune it out and not turn on the television that's within this super posh room, but I was honestly curious.

I have nothing _else_ to do, after all, besides write within this journal and _sulk_, since all of my belongings and what not are back at the Rec Center and also back at the loft.

Don't really want to write and repeat what they've been saying (which hasn't been anything bad I guess, thus far. In the sense that, "Oh, this girl _sucks!_" I mean).

Not right now, anyway.

Because _right_ now, I'm just going to curl up on this bed and force myself to sleep to block it all out.

And maybe, if I'm lucky, dream about a time back when my life actually used to make _sense_.

**-- End of Chapter Thirty  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Maybe it's because she's pretty tired and out of emotion or what have you that Will SEEMS to be taking this rather well by the end of this chapter. Not really. LoL It's also and mainly just me being dead tired right now and wishing to get this chapter out of the way to begin "Part II" of this story, which is obviously the "coping" of the entire world now knowing that Will's a princess, etc, and their reactions. Still have two more "parts," I guess you can say, to go before this story will be finished. TOLD you it wouldn't be completed until like, chapter sixty-plus. Bleh. LoL But yeah. There it is. Like it. Don't like it. Not changing it. LoL Well, I might, but obviously long after I've posted it and completed this story. I was going to do a bit more, but I decided against it, since the LAST "long chapter" I'd done didn't really really get a lot of reception. So I'm leaving it as is. But trust that whatever questions you might throw at me I'm already prepared for and will answer regardless within the following chapters, okie? Thanx! Oh, and nice little inside joke of kinda breaking the fourth wall there, how I'd poked fun at myself yet again about how you guys have been reading this story and some of you are gravely impatient at the fact that Will and Caleb haven't gotten together yet. I like to torture you. Sue me. LoL)**


	31. Chapter Thirty One

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Five reviews. Not bad, I suppose. About or apparently the average for the ten thousand word-plus chapters I post for this story. Aww, does the many words hurt your eyes? LoL Or too tired and "lazy" by the end that you can't write a review? I know how that goes, believe me. LoL Regardless, thanks to those who have read it and HAVE left reviews. I do and always will treasure every last one given to me. One hundred, twenty-five pages I have written for this story, my absolute longest (fanfic, anyway) to date. Go, me!_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in September 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty One**

**Tuesday, November 7th, 12:20 am, **

**Presidential Suite of the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel**

I should be asleep by now, since I regrettably have to go back to school and face the world, according to both Mom and Eli's "final rule" that I will get into within my next entry.

But I can't.

Could _you?_ Not after _my_ abominable day.

Every time I close my eyes, I relive it all, over and over like someone is pressing the rewind button upon their remote control.

And then in contrast, I can still see all of it with my waking eyes.

So there's no escape. And there really _won't_ be any escape once I get back to class later on today.

Everyone's going to laugh at me, I know it. And think that I'm some sort of freak. Well, the _young_ people, anyway. The _older_ people will probably think that it's "just so _darling_," or something like that.

I know this to be "true" (on both counts, in regards to the younger individuals, as well, I mean) because adults are pretty predictable. That, and because that's pretty much what the news has been saying about me for _ages_ by now. (Yeah, it's a bit past midnight, and there's _still_ coverage from time to time in regards to me.)

And since I cannot sleep, that's all I've been doing. Trying to watch the television, I mean, with "trying" being the operative word. Because I haven't really been all that successful, obviously, since whatever show I might have been watching has gotten interrupted by _more_ updates about my life.

I would be duly impressed at how swiftly these people have managed to gather so much information about me in such a small duration of time, if I weren't also feeling supremely _violated_ in regards to my fleeting privacy.

And so, since I can do nothing _else_, I might as _well _get this over with now: (Jotting down a few of the "colorfully creative" descriptions expressed about me)

"An absolute, undisputed modern day fairytale dream come true for one lucky American redhead"** -- _Donald Hurst, WKBS, Heatherfield News Radio_**

(Right. Because, one, I apparently don't have a name, and am just new news for Mr. Donald Hurst, since he could only refer to me as the "American redhead." And two, like being a princess ever _was_ a freaking "dream come true" for me.)

"America's own little royal" **-- **_**Channel 4 Evening News** _

(What am I, an_ infant? _Maybe the footage of me falling into the pool that's grievously already been circulating all over the _Internet_, I've seen, is too small an image for these people. No worries. I'm quite positive that some technical genius out there will edit and then blow up its default resolution somehow, before then re-uploading it for the masses to enjoy all _over_ again.)

"A slender, well physiqued young beauty with a striking and fetching resemblance to Maureen O'Hara, Wilhelmina Vandom is the blessed country of Marsily's latest monarch. Both she and her mother, divorcée and decades-long abdicated ruler, the statuesque, sable haired Princess Almira Lilith DeMontaimont, currently reside within a quaint and cozy loft located within the seaside town of Heatherfield, Maine." **-- _The New York Age Newspaper_**

(Now_ this_ one is my absolute "favorite," thus far. And a pretty _fast _one, I might add, since everything had happened within the middle of the day, and already this particular newspaper had managed to "stop the presses," I guess and squeeze in my story for the evening edition. Lucky _me_. Anyway, I just really find this one "funny," after I'd "stolen" it from off of the coffee table near kitchen number three or whatever that's in this place after managing to sneak a snack in earlier. I love how they described me as a "young beauty." I mean, sure, I'm pretty slender and fit and stuff. And okay. So I'm not some cow or anything as I've stated maybe once before. But they're making me out to be some _goddess_ or somebody. And who the _heck _is this _Maureen O'Hara_, anyway? Because I don't know whether to feel "happy" or offended that I was compared to this woman.

And _clearly_ they've all done their homework thoroughly, to sadly already know where I live now and evidently what I look like without all of my swimming gear on, as well.It's going to be _so_ much fun to go back to the loft eventually. I'm going to have to _move_ now. But then_ that_ would just be a moot point, since the media would just find me at whatever new place I'd hold myself within, regardless.

I _will _admit, though, that that was a pretty decent and _kinda_ nice description of Mom. Sucks that they had to air out her "dirty laundry" that she is her divorced from Dad, though. The_ two_ plus sides to all of this, however, is that they'll _both_ now have the media swarming around them, as _well_, for sure. Well, Mom, _definitely_. Dad might be fifty-fifty. Like exclusives or something to get the "inside scoop" on the two of us. God, help us _all_ if he gets persuaded to do so, which wouldn't be a hard feat to accomplish for whomever might wish to tempt him, I might add. I just hope that Sarina can manage to keep his mouth _shut, _as well as any reporter at bay for my sake, since she and I _do_ kind of get along pretty well. You know, for a stepmother-stepdaughter relationship, anyway.)

There is more, and more to come within the future, I am most certain of.

But right now, my ice cream is starting to melt and I really need to eat it before it does. Plus, an _astronomically_ sad song that just as sadly as well as expertly mirrors my so called love life at the moment has just come onto the radio.

Time to start bawling my eyes out yet again.

**P.S.**_ Note to self: Look up this Maureen O'Hara person._

**-- End of Chapter Thirty One  
**

* * *

**(A.N. I know it's "illegal" to write about non-fictional individuals on this site within your story, and up until now I have been rather observant and respectful of that rule for each of my stories. However, for this one chapter, I had to drop the real name of Ms. O'Hara, or else no one reading this would get the media's physical comparison between she and Will. So yeah. My apologies and no worries or whatever about that happening again in the future. Anyway. And also, since I can't also use real television, radio or newspapers, obviously the "The New York Age" is a spoor reference to "The New York Times." Oh, and if that radio station and person's name I pulled out of the air might be real or someone for real, which I'm sure there might be someone with that name out there, it's just a coincidence. LoL But yeah. Decided to make where the Guardians live to be Maine, since Heatherfield, the way it looks and such, reminds me a lot of Portland, Maine. Plus it just makes my life easier to designate a set state for this story's sake. LoL I'm thinking of doing something on the side for this story. That is, is still in relation to this story, but yeah. Ignore me, because I don't know yet if I'll do it. And if I do, you'll all know. Well, those of you who've added me to your author alerts list, anyhow. LoL)**


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Durn. Guess the "side thing" I'd planned to do fell through. Well, no. I COULD still do it but it might lose its "flavor" and impact later on, though. Was going to do a oneshot "side story" or side look, rather, about Will and thinking of Caleb and her rejection from him, with that extremely appropriate song, "You Don't See Me" by Letters to Cleo. So that's why I'd set it up from the previous entry saying that a sad song was on the radio and expressed how she now feels._

_Just wanted to do it as a little "treat" for all you Will/Caleb fans who've been waiting for more between the two of them in my story. Please let me know in a review if you'd still wish me to do it, because I will if that's the case._

_Anyway, thanks always for the reviews. Appreciated._

_P.S. Oh, yeah. For those interested, please go to my profile after reading this chapter to see the drawing I'd done of Will in the new look/"do" that you'll soon read that she now has._

* * *

This chapter was created/written in September 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty Two**

**Tuesday, November 7th, Biology**

I know that I should probably be used to the all too familiar sentiment of "embarrassment" by now.

And maybe I am.

I certainly feel as though I honestly might be, especially with the brand new, apathetic attitude I have decidedly adopted to train myself to maintain from now on.

Of course, this newfound disposition could be mainly due to the fact that I didn't end up falling asleep until around forty minutes before I had to get up for school.

But I'm thinking that this coupling (my lack of sleep and surplus of grouchiness as a result) will only help to serve and _benefit_ my spiritless demeanor, I'd wager.

So, bring it on, world.

No, not really, because I'm not quite there just yet. That is, prepared to tackle _every_ single person upon the planet who may now become obsessed with my so called "charmed" life.

Because _now_, I eternally have a swarm of bees, _also_ known as reporters, students, and general public alike rushing to get in two words with me if not snapshots for their scrapbooks or magazines.

And it's only seven in the morning, too. There's a _long_ way to go before this day is over.

I was woken up by my mother, who looked as though _she_ hadn't gotten much sleep herself, judging by her baggy and puffy eyes. But then again, the addition of bloodshot eyes could also be because she might have been crying throughout the night. If that had been the case, I guess it was because she felt guilty and horrible at what's happened to me.

Yeah. You and me both, Mom, so join the club for that _and_ for crying over it.

My mother wakes me up as I said, which wasn't so hard to do (for the no-sleep reason), and she softly (and sadly) says, "Wake up, honey. . . We have _a lot _to do before you leave for school."

And even though I hadn't been unconscious for long, I was still a little bit confused. I hadn't forgotten the travesty that had occurred the previous day (Who _could?_), but I also didn't entirely understand what my mom was talking about.

I mean, what was left that needed to be done?

I'll tell you what: My entire (physical) being.

Yes, my very first makeover.

Hair, (thankfully _slight_) makeup, manicure, pedicure, new wardrobe -- The honest _works_. Even my mother had her own "mini" makeover, in that she'd only gotten her hair done and new clothes to wear (which she'd mainly only gone along with just because she obviously didn't have a change of clothes with her just as I hadn't).

Even though I didn't want to go through with it (besides for the fact that I don't have patience for things of the "Cornelia Nature," no pun intended), I didn't make a fuss. I didn't have it in me, as I'd both physically as well as emotionally exhausted myself of the majority of my "passionate" emotions.

So I just sat within my chair while vaguely listening to Eli inform me of his reasons for doing this, while a billion people (manicurists and stylists alike, such Malvina and Mabelle Kalah, yet again) hovered around me to do their thing. I definitely knew that he wasn't "treating" me to this metamorphosis as a way to be nice or to make up for destroying my life, _that's_ for sure (even_ if _he had said that that was his reason).

No. It was because, now that my royal heritage is out to the public, I _really_ must look the part of a princess and "carry a dignified demeanor at all times," he admitted while explaining gently.

A "miracle," right? That he was so soft spoken, I mean. Why not just _scream_ it at me and _lose _it again like you had yesterday? We all now know that you're capable of such antics, buddy. But I suppose that it was merely contriteness, since I'd noticed that he didn't really wish to look at me for long (if at all) as he addressed me (or Mom).

It was almost like dealing with a completely different person.

Doesn't matter, though, because his _face_ is still the same, and it is one that I now_ tremendously_ loath.

The one "plus side," if you can _call_ it that, is that I can at least crack open my stupid Royal Time Log from my princess lesson(s) to the part about how to properly conduct myself while in public (in royal regards).

However, not because I want to make my mother or uncle proud.

_God_, no, are you kidding?

No. It's because I don't wish to provide the media any further disconcerting pieces of news footage about me, like how I might have fallen through an open _manhole_ because I wasn't looking where I was going.

No, thanks.

But, I suppose I _should_ really just get used to all of this in either sense, as it_ is_ the beginning of the rest of my life that will be riddled with bowing, scraping, and other such royal protocol.

In other words, a life full of _misery_.

After I had gotten all glamorized (in record time, too, I will openly acknowledge, since I was awoken around five just about, and yet in less than two hours time I was finished right before I had to leave the Plaza for school), I had to get an emergency police escort to campus.

Getting out of the Plaza had been an honest chore in and of itself, what with various reporters and photographers who had camped outside of the building (or relatively near it, since it is illegal for them to loiter) to get a chance at being one of the very first to see me again.

Let's just say that I (and my mother and Eli, of course) ultimately ended up being "sandwiched" a multitude of times over by every royal escort present and under Eli's payroll before successfully reaching the anxiously awaiting limousine.

Again, at least I'll look _infinitely_ better if I do deplorably make front page news this time around, with my admittedly stylish new look.

Here. Since I'm that impressed by the job done, let me treat you by describing to you how I currently look (But do NOT ever let Eli and his crew know that I said so, or else I'll _never_ hear the end of it):

**WILL VANDOM'S "PRINCESS GEAR" (AS SHE REFERS TO IT) LIST, DAY ONE (OF MANY, SHE'S SURE)**

● One, really neat and "not-too-over-the-top" "Winter White" (as I'd been informed) turtleneck sweater with balloon sleeves (since today is rather cold)

● One, equally neat "Winter White" colored wool swing coat (to obviously wear while outdoors)

● One pair of black, bootcut pants (that will help to make me look taller, I was told by the Malvina and the other stylists who'd picked them and the rest of my clothes out for me)

● One pair of "Princess-cut" (Ironic name, right?), fourteen karat white gold diamond studded earrings (that make me extremely fearful to wear, as I have never worn anything so. . . dangerously expensive? Shall I be billed if I'd happen to lose one or both of them? Good thing I don't have gym class today, or else I really _would _lose them, since we're not allowed jewelry on while class is in session)

● One pair of Italian-made, dress slip-on black shoes

**-IN ADDITION-**

● One, brand-spanking-new (and a bit unnerving, even though I do prefer short hair) Inverted Bob haircut (that has my -- now extremely shiny, I might add -- hair trimmed shorter in the back, while the front is purposely kept long)

**-AND-**

● One "Natural" makeup look (which is the only kind of "look" that I can and will vaguely tolerate, I'm telling you right now, as not a whole lot had been applied to my face and it doesn't honestly appear as though I'm wearing much to any at all -- Hence its name. "A princess should always look her best, but not as far as to assume the semblance of some two-dime _harlot_," Eli had informed me while my makeup was being applied by Mahbelle and Malvina. No, _really_, Eli? Geez. But at least by now my previous facial wound had just about healed and cleared up. One less abashment "scandal" to worry about)

And of course my new look has earned me heated whispers YET again (It's like the H.B.F. all over again, but worse) as soon as I'd stepped out of the limo (in _front _of the school for the first time, unfortunately) with both Eli and my mother, practically having to _sprint_ inside to avoid the additional onslaught of questions from vulturous reporters who'd either followed us to the school or had always been there, lying in wait for me to arrive.

Regardless of my (determined to keep) new "blazay attitude," did I ever mention before that this really sucks? I mean, A LOT??

Of course I have. Just testing you.

You should have heard some of the inquiries thrown at us while trying to enter the high school in record time:

"How do you feel to be Marsily's newest princess, Princess Wilhelmina?"

How the hell do you _think_ I feel? Like I'm in a new, more _lousy_ version of the story, _The Prince and the Pauper_, only I never get "switched back" and have to continue to live out my new life as an idiot autocrat.

"Your highness! What is your personal style? What skin regime do you follow?"

The style where I used to just be _me_, Will Vandom, Guardian of the Veil and Keeper of the Heart of Candracar, in addition to (formerly) swooning, typically lovesick young teenager. _That's_ the style I prefer. As for my skin regime, I wasn't aware that my face might have been staging a coup. I'll look into that, though.

And, my all-time favorite thus far:

"Princess! Do you have a 'Prince Charming?' Who is he?"

An utterly resounding "No comment!" to that one. . . mainly just because there really _isn't_ a comment _to_ give, unfortunately for me. (But yeah. How messed up_ is _that, that I _don't_ have any Prince Charmings as a princess? I mean, not that I'm all anti-feminist or anti-"Girl Power!" or anything, obviously, but come on. It's going to be one lonely castle for yours truly in the future. . .)

And then, for my _mother_, I'd managed to zero in on a few questions (that were better than the ones directed at _me_, for sure). Like:

"How have you managed to remain in hiding for such a long time, Princess Almira?",

"What made you decide to give up the royal throne, your highness? Do you regret it?"

and

"As an abdicated monarch, shall you play a role within Princess Wilhelmina's royal journey?"

Um, hello? She is my _mother_. Whether I'm seventeen or eighty-five-years old, that will never change. (Just don't tell her I said that) So, of _course_ she's going to play_ some_ type of active royal within this nightmarish journey of mine. Just blows that I have to go on it at all. But, still. Ask a stupid question, why don't you?

Oh. . . Forgot to mention earlier, throughout all of this commotion and my sleepy brain playing catch up. . . Sprita is no longer here. . .

And I now have a new, less amicable-appearing guard with light, pixie cut ash blonde hair and cool gray eyes named Nova (What a name, huh? Then again, "Sprita" was pretty out there, as well) in her stead to watch me alongside Ernest. . .

Now. I am not saying that I was in love with the girl or anything, but all things considered, Sprita wasn't so bad. And at times she did at least _try _to roll with the punches whenever I'd asked her to. . . as it doesn't at all appear as though Nova ever would, not with her "No nonsense" demeanor like Ernest.

Speaking of, it seems as though Ernest is greatly upset that Sprita is no longer here.

I know: "How can you tell? The guy never talks, or takes off his glasses. And if he does, he looks as though he is fantasizing about _killing _someone."

Very true.

But, I don't know. I just have this vibe or sixth sense about it and that he really _is_ sad or something that his former partner is gone. I don't really think that the two of them might have been lovers (Please, no. Gross) or anything, but they did still seem to have _some_ sort of bond between the two of them.

You can imagine my increased discomfort around the guy now, especially now that he's allowed to freely tail me everywhere on campus with Nova, as Sprita had done. . .

I just feel so horrible for my "prank." I mean, all I'd wanted was to get her out of the way long enough so that I could get to my swimming meet without much conflict, _not _get her _fired_, after all. . .

How do I know?

Because after I'd gotten introduced to Nova and I'd naturally asked for Sprita's whereabouts, all Eli briefly offered to me as an explanation was, ". . . Sprita will no longer be within our company or service. . ."

And all _she_ had wanted was to do her job and do it well, in addition to efficiently. _Now_ she's probably standing in the unemployment line somewhere back in Marsily, if that's where she is now, anyway. I doubt that she would want to continue living within a country whose princess is the cause for her professional and social disgrace.

Wait. What_ does_ happen to "retired" bodyguards? Do they go through some sort of court-martial in the way that military individuals do? Can they _never_ get another big gig ever again?

Wonderful.

Even more to feel horrible for (or to try not to feel horrible for, rather). Just wish that I could have at least seen her to apologize before she'd gone. . .

But I suppose there isn't much point in dwelling within the past and about matters that cannot be changed.

After getting inside of the school (and trying to block out all of the gasps and excited stares from the small but steadily growing student population that were present at this time), I had to go straight into the principals office to alert Principal Brooks of the latest guidelines that Eli had now implemented.

If anything, it should be Mom or I laying down the ground rules now, since it _is_ Eli who is to blame for the latest debacle, I will "joyfully" point out for yet the tenth time. I mean, is it me, or has he done just about the complete opposite of what he (might have) set out to do in regards to handling the gradual process of my "coming out," so to speak, as princess as delicately as possible?

All I can say is, it's a good thing that he doesn't have any children, or else he'd probably be a _terrible_ father and ruin _their_ lives, as well.

After spending all of homeroom and the first five minutes or so of first period in the Brooks's office, listening to all of the new news of how things would be for me while on school grounds (which is essentially what I was writing about earlier, of how I now have to have both bodyguards with me at all times, no matter where I am, and that Mom must also now have Tegan with her everywhere, as well) I'm stuck here, alone.

Well, not alone, since I have both Ernest and Nova standing within the back of the classroom, presumably watching me behind their shades. (Don't they _ever_ take those things off for more than five minutes?? At least _Sprita_ had. . .) But I mean, alone in the sense that I don't and won't have anyone to have by my side for comfort throughout all of the snickers and gossip I'm obviously going to get for many a month to come.

I suppose that I can count on _Martin_, since he's about the only one in this classroom (_including_ the teacher) who _hasn't_ stopped to stare at me like I'm a part of some circus freak show or Witness Protection Program.

But he _also_ now seems to. . . I can't even say it. Have_ eyes _for me.

Like I'd said before once upon a time, I love Martin. I do. But even if I _wasn't_ already in love with someone else (or forcefully falling _out_ of love by this point, rather), he wouldn't stand a chance with me. But only because he isn't my type. And anyway, even if I _wanted _to pursue something with him, since Eli's been extremely rigid about everything else so far, the subject of appropriate male suitors in regards to myself is _obviously_ a sore one for him now, after that whole fiasco with _Matt_ the other night.

But Martin's a genius. Wouldn't Eli _want_ to have future nieces and/or nephews who are excessively intelligent? (Ugh. That thought made me almost gag, because to have children with Martin would involve doing something more than just kissing. And that's a huge "No-No," since I view Martin like a "usually-annoying-but-means-well-and-is-sweet" cousin of mine or something)

And there again is proof that I always seem to attract all of the guys I have no desire to, and am _vapor_ to the ones that I do.

_Ohhh_, yeah. You're _definitely_ looking at one princess who will be spending her later years with an impressive array of felines as her only form of companionship. (But my strong empathy towards animals might help to make that sad future a little better at the very least)

Anyway. . . I don't know what to say or do anymore right now.

I mean, I _want _to feel sad, and I'm sure that I eventually will. But I think that I just really _am_ exhausted of all emotion.

I know that I'm writing everything with energy and some form of sentiment illustrated, regardless, but how I _write_ it doesn't at all match how I currently_ feel_.

It_ is_ very embarrassing and torturous, sure, to sit here and experience my fellow classmates continuously _gawking_ at me, while Martin (and his lab partner, Alec, I just noticed) keeps grinning and blushing while looking at me in the corner of his eye (obviously believing that I cannot see it). But it's honestly as though my mind, or at least the part of me that makes me human and encompasses all sorts of normal feelings has somehow disconnected with my body.

It _has_ to have, if I didn't even bother to put up a fight with Eli when he said that both my mother and myself (because she's now evidently at as much risk as I am for "media travesties," as Eli put it, and would need some re-fine tuning in regards to how to effectively handle it all. This upset Mom, because she said that while she hasn't been in the direct spotlight for a long while, it didn't mean that she was _completely_ helpless now, either. Still, she said that she would come to at least _one_ lesson if only for _my_ sake, like I care) would have to attend another princess lesson scheduled for after school today, "No excuses," he added.

Of course, it will have to be after my detention that Ms. Wojick had given to me last week for being so late back to my English class. That's _one_ plus side to getting it at all. It will give me a bit of reprieve from my royal lifestyle.

I guess he expected me to frown and complain like I normally do whenever around him, because when all I had done was nod faintly and stare blankly at Principal Brooks's desk before me, I could see Eli gaze upon me with a grand curious expression. As though he was thinking, "What did she smoke this morning, before leaving the Plaza with me, to become so _obedient?_"

I just didn't see any point to resist. What would it change? At least before, I could refuse and maybe (by some miracle) get out of going to another lesson, and still be a princess in _private_. No one would know this way_ or_ that that I don't know the first _thing _of what it means to be royal.

_Now_, however, if I never went to another princess lesson ever again, it still wouldn't change the fact that the entire world now regrettably knows who and what I am. Plus, if I _don't_ go and don't actually retain some of the things that Eli will (try to) impart onto me, it will leave me all the _more_ ill-prepared for what the paparazzi and other forms of media might catapult my way in the extremely near future as I'd essentially noted earlier.

We all know that I hate to be the center of attention for unwanted reasons. And this is as unwanted as it gets. So, since I do not have a time machine to help bail me out of all of this, then I am going to empower myself to handle this like a Guardian mission.

That is, try my best to put aside my apprehension and disdain (which, for now obviously, should not be very hard to do) and do all that I can to survive. . .

_P.S._ That's right. I'd looked up who Maureen O'Hara was before going to sleep last night (or this morning, rather). Besides the same hair color, I don't look a thing like her. She looked so mesmerizing and with an old fashioned elegance and grace about her in her youth. The New York Age would have been better off comparing Ms. O'Hara with Cornelia or someone else, instead, since Cornelia embodies more of those traits than I.

Honestly. This is why it is stressed so profusely all over to stay off the drugs.

**-- End of Chapter Thirty Two  
**

* * *

**(A.N. There. Since Celestial Secrets didn't really seem to agree that Will resembles Ms. O'Hara a bit and I do believe it – especially back from Ms. O'Hara's "tomboy phase" when younger as I'd explained – I thought that I'd just put in that sentiment in Will's post script writing. Yay. LoL Anyway, for some reason, this chapter didn't like me. That's all right. In the future, once this story's finished, I'll just go back and revise it if I see fit. Until then, here it is. Didn't have the energy to make it longer and talk about absolutely everything that has or will happen to Will throughout the course of the day. Just please be patient for the future chapters, which I don't know when that will be because I've just been really busy and really tired, as well, now that I have had to care for my sister since her surgery on her lower back two weeks ago. Yes, she's fine, no worries to those who care. Anyway, stay tuned.)**


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: WAHH!!! FINALLY!! DONE WITH THIS CHAPTER!! YAY!!

READ!! That's all I gotta say right now. LoL

* * *

This chapter was created/written in September 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty Three**

**Later on Tuesday After School,**

**En Route to the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel (ONLY for the billionth time)**

My handwriting is definitely going to have a bit of chicken scratch tendencies when I'm finished writing this entry, but since I'm on my way to the Plaza and there's so much to write, it can't be avoided.

_Talk_ about event overload. I don't think that I've _ever_ had such a jam-packed day before, (Not like this, anyway) and that's saying a lot.

But I've never had so much happen, and in every single period.

Then again, it's not everyday that the whole world finds out that you're an actual, real life princess, either. So, I suppose that it's to be expected that you'd be nothing _but_ the talk of the town (and _school_ as well, in my case).

Going to have to "cut the fat" in some spots, though, and try to be as direct as possible with everything. So, let's just go in order of each period:

● **2nd Period, Public Speaking (B Day)**

One of my most dreadful classes. I don't really know why I'd decided to choose it as one of my electives. I guess it was because I was feeling "brave" and had wanted to force myself to get out of my comfort zone, being that public speaking is not my thing. (However, _now_ I'm thinking that it was a rather smart move for me, since speaking to the masses will be a part of my new job description as princess)

Anyway, of _course_ once I got inside of the classroom, all previous chatter had instantly ceased, as my fellow classmates watched me enter with Ernest and Nova trailing behind. Even my teacher, Mrs. Flannigan, had instantly stopped what she was doing and nearly dropped her coffee mug (that she usually has on her desk to sip at in between periods).

Next to Ms. Wojick, Mrs. Flannigan is my second favorite teacher, even if I don't particularly approve of her choice in specific subject to educate others about. (But I won't hold that against her) She's always been pretty cool to me, as well, understanding my no lack of love loss in regards to talking in front of millions. (Okay, so maybe it's really only twenty-four people, but it still _feels_ like a million and might as _well _be, as I'm quite sure that I'd feel just as nauseated either way) And she's also never really treated me differently at any time, whether it be within a love or hate capacity.

So I didn't really expect her to go all crazy or what not, like everyone else more or less has. But God bless the woman, she did her best _not_ to, it seemed like, throughout class, as she'd gaze at me and giggle a bit foolishly from time to time, or would lose her train of thought more than once.

I know that this is school, and we're _supposed_ to have a lot of homework, especially during this current time of upcoming midterms and such.

This is "Cram-Like-Mad" overload time.

And especially because I'm a senior? It's _very_ important that I focus. (Which is why, again, that all of this princess business could not have come at a _worse_ time)

Regardless, however, I wasn't expecting to be hit with major assignments that can either make or break me back, to back, to _back_.

And certainly not for Public Speaking, either. Because I mean, so far, all we've done thus far have been in class speech exercises, with a few homework assignments thrown in here and there. But nothing major until now.

I'm sitting class, in my usual choice seat waaayyy in the back as always (so, in that way, no one can really notice me, which in turn makes class a bit better to stomach -- That is, it'd used to until now, since even sitting in the far back of the room cannot save me from the prying eyes of _all_), and Mrs. Flannigan is telling all of us about her day by turning it into a speech of her own. (This is her laid back way of teaching this course, which seems to work because about half of the class are pros now with going up to the podium and speaking in the same, confident manner that she does. You can guess which rest of the percentage that _I_ fall into)

And normally, after having done so and making a bit of small talk with her students as she's prone to do on occasion, Mrs. F. will give us a few notes and then our topic to do a speech about while in class.

And she'd done just that.

But then, the next thing you know, after the notes, she goes, "Now, I know that I more or less 'promised' you guys that I wouldn't give you any sort of major assignments to tackle. But, after having looked over the amount of grades that I've given you thus far, I've calculated them over again and realized that I actually _will_ have to give you guys something more '_drastic_' in order to make up for that."

At this, we all groaned.

Well, not I.

_I_ was too busy trying to control the butterflies that were then beginning to form and flutter within my stomach. Because I knew that Mrs. Flannigan wouldn't have been talking about actual exams, considering that she said she doesn't believe in them where public speaking is concerned. She says that she _could_ test us with written exams of what we've learned so far "until the cows come home," and we might all pass every time, but there's still a huge difference between written tests and standing up in front of people to speak and convey what we've truthfully retained and improved upon.

True.

But I'd _still_ take a long, drawn out and boring exam over verbalizing _any_ day.

Having this in mind, I already knew what was coming next. Sure enough, Mrs. Flannigan, as she looks at me for a moment before saying, "So, I thought that, in light and honor of recent events, I'd change the original speech topic of 'The _Worst_ Thing That's Ever Happened to You,' to the _best_ thing. . ."

And, of course, at this, most of the class caught on to Mrs. Flannigan's meaning and instantly looked at me, some with smiles upon their faces while others glared with obvious jealousy. (Why would anyone _ever_ be jealous of me over this? _Do _you want every waking moment of your life monitored and made public for all to see and know about? Perhaps the naïve or_ insane_ would, anyway)

Newly formed apathetic nature or not, I'm _always_ feeling embarrassed from the moment I step into this classroom to the time that I leave, and it showed the moment that I began to sink even lower into my seat while trying my absolute best to will myself to listen to Mrs F. explain the assignment.

She said that it had to be exactly ten minutes long, as descriptive yet as straight and to the point as possible (with the usual speech giving guidelines of a captivating and strong introduction, middle and closing that will tie everything expressed together well. This is something I have _yet_ to truly master).

And, after a bit of protest from some of my classmates, it can now either be about the best _or_ worst thing that's ever happened to us as our topic (which Mrs. F. was honestly okay with, because she said that it's honestly more difficult for one to get up and openly talk about something negative pertaining to their life, more than it is to naturally discuss something more pleasant).

_Either_ way? I'm totally screwed. I can't _even_ think of anything _good_ that's happened to me in a while -- Or at _all_, really. (Obviously there _has_ been, but I'm currently drawing a blank)

But I certainly can think of _only _a monstrous platoon of _horrible_ events that have happened to me in less than a month's time.

Nonetheless, it still wasn't anything that I'd wanted publicized. (And in my case now, that could be a _tremendously_ bad thing) And for ten minutes? Are you _serious?_ I can barely survive the thirty second or two minute speeches we have to do each class time, and they _always_ feel like an eternity to me.

Ten minutes? I'm dead.

A ten minute speech about a topic that I'm currently finding _zero _inspiration over (which is worth an impressive amount of my grade, I might add, and deplorably so), to be presented before Thanksgiving break?

_Oh_, yeah. _Definitely_ cremated, here (especially since my overall grade point average within this class thus far is truthfully around that of a C, I believe, since I still possess the same old babbling or blanking out flaws every time I have to go up to the podium to do my speeches. . . Despite this, though, Mrs. F. still seems to have faith in me and my eventual progression. Sure thing, Mrs. F. Just in case, though, let's have mercy upon Marsily's people for having to listen to any _peace talks_ I might have to preside over, or something).

I suppose, perhaps _one_ "good thing" that had happened in that class this morning, was that I'd _finally_ made a new friend. (Yeah, after having suffered alone for two months now, since the semester had started) That is, there isn't anyone in that class whom I know (but most all seem to know one another, of course), and none of whom I'd honestly really _care_ to know (since there are quite a few _jerky_ people in the class, most being "typical" cheerleaders and jocks, which you _know_ makes talking in front of them all the _more_ "fun").

Still, there is at least this one chickadee (who usually sits diagonally in front of me), named Ryan, who's pretty quiet and keeps to herself as I myself do. But whenever _she_ has to speak up at the podium, she comes off as _überconfident_ and pretty intellectual, which always makes you wonder why she's taking this course to begin with.

Plus, she dresses kind of like a bizarre (yet effective -- For/on _her_, at least) cross between a grunge and Gothic look (not that there's anything wrong with that), with torn jeans (usually black in color, as with the rest of her clothes), a dark, checkered t-shirt tied around her waist, disheveled, long pink hair, (Don't ask me her natural hair color, because every time _I've_ seen her, anyway, it's always been pink) and heavy black eyeliner and lipstick.

I guess you can just call her one of those "never-judge-a-book-by-its-cover" sort of people, perhaps. Doesn't matter, though, because you know, with this sort of unique and independent look, Ryan earns a lot of attention of the jeering nature, specifically (in this regard) from our classmates. Nonetheless, she doesn't seem to care, and maintains her nonchalant attitude (if she doesn't also manage to successfully flip one of them the bird without being seen by the teacher, that is).

I don't know if it's just because she now knows that I'm a princess that this girl is suddenly talking to me. Doesn't matter, though (in this case, anyway), because I'm just happy to finally have someone to talk to and to get help and advice on how to improve upon my speech deliverance, which she's thankfully already offered to do before I'd even asked.

"Thanks. I could use all the help that I can get," I told Ryan after class and we'd both left the classroom with Ernest and Nova in tow.

"Yeah, don't I _know_ it. In more ways than _one_, apparently," Ryan responded with a shrug and blatant gesture towards my bodyguards before stuffing her hands into her pockets. "And anyway, I'm just mainly offering my assistance because I'm getting kinda tired of being the only one with an honest _brain_ in that otherwise _retarded_ class. Well, negating Mrs. F, I guess. If we can help you get over your_ obviously_ crippling fear of what the '_Beautiful People_' think of you, then I think you'll be ready to effectively rule your future kingdom in no time at all, your highness," she finished with a small smirk, before waving goodbye to me and walked up the upcoming staircase that led to the second floor of the school.

Wonderful. Rub it in, why don't you?

But, hey. Hopefully now, with Ryan's help, I might actually receive higher than a D on this dreadful assignment.

● **3rd Period, World History (ABCD Day)**

Yeah, and then. How screwed up was _this_ class?

I mean, seriously.

Because it was one of my only classes (Thank God) where it had actually been dedicated all to me. Well, dedicated to talking all about _Marsily_, anyway.

I am not even kidding.

I'm sitting there, stuck in the front, because this particular teacher, Mr. Lenzer, not only insists upon always saying, "Better late than never. . . but better never _late_" whenever someone is late to class, but he _also_ prefers having assigned seats that he'll change every two weeks or so. Lucky _me_, I've gotten placed within the front every time thus far. At least the last time, however, I was put in the corner front near the classroom door, which meant that I'd be one of the first people out.

_Now_, I'm smack dab, front and center, in the middle of the classroom!

But, anyhow. . .

I've got my notebook, textbook, and homework out, waiting for class to begin, while also continuously trying to ignore the whispers of everyone around me.

You know. The usual routine by now.

And in walks Lenzer, and he's got his usual, calm and collected expression that's shining forth behind his slightly thick lensed glasses.

So I'm thinking that, clearly _he_ at least won't be bought into the whole commotion that's sweeping the entire school due to my newfound celebrity status. This thought really wasn't all that surprising, though, since the only two known things that seem truly able to bring a twinkle to the man's eye (besides when and if one or _a lot _of us fail a test, or something -- Well, all the people he's _not _particularly fond of, anyhow. Insert-flashing-neon-lit-sign-that-says-_my_-name here, folks) is history, obviously, and also a new pair of Loafers, as that's all he'll ever wear.

And things were still fine while he leisurely collected the homework project essay that he'd made us do, that's an equivalent to a test (which you didn't know about, but mainly because I don't like this school, so why would I write about the specific homework that I get all of the time?), with a quick, semi-polite and amused look at me after seizing my paper.

But then, after Lenzer goes back to his desk and puts our assignment papers within the corner before grabbing a piece of chalk from the chalkboard, some stupid kid I don't personally know has to go and raise his hand to ask, "Mr. Lenzer? Since this class is all about learning the history of the world and what not, and we _are_ about to start a new topic, I -- No, _we_ all thought, I'm sure, that maybe we could _additionally_ learn about the country and kingdom of Marsily, as well?"

Are you_ serious?_ Is he _serious?_

"We all thought"?

And the way that he'd said all of it! _Such_ a damned _suck up!_ And with just a perfect hint of purposeful condescension towards me!

_Why? _I don't even _know_ you, dude! Every time that I come into class, you're always so busy being such a know-it-all for the teacher and getting all the questions right, and I've never _once_ bothered to contend against you for top spot of _Brown-noser_.

So why _punish_ me like this?

As soon as I'm queen, I am _so_ declaring war upon you as _well_ as your entire family.

Nevertheless, Mr. Lenzer instantly took a great liking to this idea. Oh, _why_ did I now have to be eternally attached to something that has "great history" behind it? Because then Lenzer wouldn't have otherwise cared!

But no. _Oh_, no. He couldn't let it go. As soon as I saw that familiar scintillation practically overwhelming his beady blue eyes at this proposition, I knew that I was done for.

Sure enough, he smiles with intrigue and goes, "Hmm. . . That's an interesting point, Ian. One that I could honestly entertain, given that we _are_ just a bit ahead of the game than the rest of the other World History classes," he began, mulling things over. "And, I suppose that if I teach both of the units on Europe and Asia simultaneously -- which would require a lot more extra diligence upon _your_ part as students to efficiently keep up, of course -- then. . . Yes! I don't see why we _couldn't_ also dedicate the next two weeks on the history and culture of the great country of Marsily! Wouldn't you _agree_, Princess Wilhelmina?"

I so _very _much wished, right at that moment, to get up from my chair, leave the classroom and never return again. And, if I could not, then at the _very_ least be able to rise just so that I could strangle both Lenzer _and_ his loser pupil, Ian.

I have to deal with religiously hearing Marsily this, and Marsily _that _enough at home _and_ at the Plaza. I don't need deal with it within a class that was _already_ boring enough as it was to begin with, thank you kindly.

And I'd wanted so badly to just be like Ryan and flip _Lenzer _the bird as my response, too. But then I'd remembered that any and every little action (and even lack thereof) I made might be put on the news in the future.

So I just gave a minuscule, stiff sort of smile, while blushing profusely and managed a weak, "W-well, I-I, uh. . . I-I _guess_. . . so?"

To which Lenzer gave a firm nod of approval before turning his back to begin giving a fresh set of new notes off the top of his head upon the vile, increasingly pain-in-my-side country that is "my own."

And of course, you know that the rest of the class, who's like me and can't stand history, were upset with me and had freely let me know after class.

Like it was _my_ fault that I just happened to have been born into royalty!

"Way to _go_, your _highness!_"

"_Yeah_, your_ loyal_ subjects _thank _you!"

were some of things my ears had been privy to as I urgently tried to _Power Walk_ my way to my next class as fast as I could before I could hear anything more.

Okay, people. That's strike _one_.

● **On the Way to 4th Period**

Now _this_ part is where I'd gotten a little reprieve from the whole hustle and bustle of things. That is, I'd finally run into a friend who wasn't either treating me like a _leper_, or one of the greatest people currently upon the face of the Earth.

Eddie.

Good old Eddie.

I was actually relieved (besides surprised, since, as he'd pointed out the last time we'd spoken, we barely see one another while on campus) to see him, being that I knew that he wouldn't treat me any differently.

Plus, since I now have no one _else_ to talk to, anymore, it had made my indifferent heart begin to thaw a bit more to gaze upon his welcoming face.

It was within the usually crowded hallway on the first floor, right before the wider area that led out to the quads that I'd spotted him.

Well, where _he_ had spotted_ me_.

_I_ had been too busy focusing upon racing to my next class to have honestly managed much else.

But all of a sudden I'm hearing someone's voice calling out my name over and over, vague at first, before it was virtually right up against my ear. And I turned my head to my left, startled, and there Eddie was, grinning down at me as he says hello (with _his_ escorts, Celso and Guerino trailing behind him, of course).

"_Oh!_ Eddie. . . hey. Sorry about that. Just kind of zoned out there for a bit," I apologized as we began to walk side by side through the gradually dispersing sea of fellow students.

"So I'm sure," he responded knowingly with another smile. "_Sooo_. . . 'Her Royal Highness, Princess Wilhelmina,' huh? Honestly had never seen _that_ one coming."

I groaned, blushing softly.

"Well, you know. . . It's not like I'd _signed up _for it, or anything. You can blame my _mother_ for that."

"Yeah, right? I have to say, though, even though I _was_ obviously a tad suspicious of why you suddenly had avid protection as I myself have, I honestly was never once thinking that it could have been because you'd suddenly inherited an entire _country_," Eddie revealed with raised eyebrows and a smirk upon his traditionally handsome face.

I managed to faintly smile back, my first real one since my global exposure.

"And _that's_ saying something, Mr. Travels-The-World-A-Lot-And-Does-Business-With-Just-About-_Everyone_," I actually joked, lightly nudging the muscular young man's side, which had caused him to chuckle deeply at this (and in turn, of course made a few passing girls swoon to have heard. _Crazy_ chicks, I swear).

"Hey, _hey,_ now. I haven't traveled _everywhere _quite yet, and don't honestly plan or _care_ to for a long while – like, preferably after I've finished _college_, for example. Plus, I rather _enjoy_ it here in Heatherfield. . ." he trailed off with a soft, thoughtful smile, for reasons that were _painfully_ salient to the both of us (and _Irma_, if she had been around to bear witness to the statement). "And, to be fair, it's my _parents_ who take care of business 'with just about everyone,' as you'd said, not I. But anyway, I'm sure that you don't want to hear about enterprise transactions and such anymore than I want to _talk_ about it at the moment. I'm more interested to hear how you're currently holding up."

I sighed heavily, rubbing my forehead vigorously as he and I continued walking.

"Well, honestly? I don't really know just yet. I mean, everything had been barely sinking in on its own for me, and now I've got of all _this_ to deal with," I said with a gesture of my hand towards a few passersby who were clearly newfound "fans" of mine, the way they were excitedly huddled together and conspicuously pointing within my direction as I'd passed.

Eddie nodded slowly in understanding as he patiently listened.

"Well. . . I know that it won't make you feel any better to hear, but _I _at least can slightly relate to what you're going through. I mean, I may not be royalty -- You _definitely_ trump _my_ 'cult status' by being one while I am not -- but at least we can now _both_ sort of share the burden, if you will?"

I looked up at him and smiled lightly with a roll of my eyes.

"Yeah, maybe. . . Still. You want to trade? _I _can be the son of a billionaire art collector and painter, and _you_ can be the daughter of a deceitful princess," I playfully bargained as I was approaching my next classroom.

Eddie waved a hand at this and grinned.

"Um. . . no thanks, no. I'm thinking that I rather _enjoy_ being a male. And _you_ look too pretty to be anything else _but_ female, especially now with your "new you do" -- which suits you quite nicely, by the way," he complimented kindly, resting a hand upon my shoulder momentarily while I blushed yet again.

"Oh, yeah. . . I'd honestly forgotten all about my brand-spanking-new look, as I've now been so fixated upon completely blocking this nightmare out," I said, blushing a bit harder at the reflection. "But thank you, Eddie. And between you and me? I actually don't mind it so much, and that's saying a lot since those who truly know me are aware of the fact that I hate 'Dress-Up-Time-For-Susie-Doll' kind of moments, you know?"

Eddie chuckled again at this as we stopped outside of my classroom door.

"That's an interesting way of putting it. But I guess, in your new-sprung 'line of work,' it's certainly going to come with the territory. Anyway, now that things are out for you, my offer to hang out some time at my mansion is still on the table. You can think of it as a little respite from cameras and paparazzi being in your face all the time, as I'm sure they will be from now on, unfortunately -- The security for my home is extremely tight, thankfully," he explained with a relieved simper in reflection.

Now _that's_ something I'm definitely going to need more of, if I ever wish to go back to the loft and live there in one piece.

While I was thinking of this, Eddie suddenly added, "Oh! Hey, that's right! I wanted to ask you how come _you_ are next in line for the throne of Marsily, as the news has been depicting all day and night yesterday I'd heard, when your --"

But he couldn't finish his train of thought and inquiry, because the late bell had then rung, which meant the both of us were now tardy (even though I was standing right outside of my classroom).

"Oh! _Shoot!_ I'm late! I'm sorry, Will! No, wait! _Princess!_ Sorry! I'll have to catch you another time to finish our conversation! Oh! But please don't forget that you're welcome to come visit me at any time! 'Bye!" Eddie hurriedly said as he already began to rush further down the hall (with both the ever silent Celso and Guerino in hot pursuit), to wherever his next class was being held.

Wasn't that pretty interesting? At least it wasn't all about Eddie suddenly _fawning_ over me like some gold digger (which would be redundant in his case, since he's more wealthy than Marsily, I'm sure), something that had never honestly crossed my mind, anyhow (not because of how he feels for Irma, but just because of the kind of person he is, as I've reflected upon once or twice in the past already).

But it was a bit odd, the question that he'd started to ask me before being interrupted by the late bell.

I mean, obviously Eddie doesn't really seem to know a whole lot about Marsily (I don't _think_, anyway), but I'm sure he still knows _some_ pockets of information here and there if ever his family really has traded with said country in the past or upcoming future.

So, I'm _also_ sure that he's aware of the fact that my uncle's the current ruler.

Well, _duh_. Of _course_ he is.

I mean, _that_ was what he was about to say when he trailed off with "when your --".

But maybe Eddie just forgot about that whole successor thing, and how Eli can't rule _forever_ (which I'm sure just really _chafes_ his ass off to be aware of), and will sadly need _me_ to take his place.

Well, whatever. Don't want to think about that anymore right now, because it's making me upset.

So. Moving on.

● **Lunchtime, 5th Period**

Now, being that the rest of my morning had been unbelievably depressing thus far, I _truly _was not looking forward to lunch today (even though I was also _really_ starving, considering that I didn't have much to eat in terms of a _proper_ breakfast, since most of that time had been spent making me look the way that I now do).

Still, I managed to suck it up and just resigned myself to sitting at the same "loser table" from yesterday after my blow up with the girls, despite the fact that the usual table I would sit at with both Cornelia and Taranee was currently empty (since I'd managed to get to lunch a bit earlier than usual) and just about half of the cafeteria of people present at that time were screaming and begging for me to join _them_, instead.

No, _way_.

And anyway, the main reason that I hadn't bothered to settle myself at my normal table instead, was mainly because I knew that there was zero chance that the girls would _ever_ forgive me now. Not after having kept such an extraordinary secret as this from them for as long as I had, anyhow (which made me yet again hear both Matt and Elyon's voices ringing within my head with "I told you so"'s and such).

But then, I began to feel even _more_ sad, because I began to think of Sprita again, and how she and I had sat at this very table, together as "outcasts." Okay, well, technically, _I_ had been the only outcast. She just sat there with me because it was her job. But now she doesn't even _have_ one anymore, thanks to me and my selfish ploy enacted against her. . .

So, after I'd bought my lunch (after having to say "No, but thank you" about a trillion times to a bunch of people, mainly the wide-eyed freshman, who'd repeatedly offered to buy my lunch for me) and headed back to my lonely table, I found a pleasant surprise waiting for me.

Only, I didn't or wasn't yet sure, rather, of whether or not it really was pleasant at that moment.

By then, both Cornelia and Caleb had shown up to their table, and were talking to a few of their mutual friends who'd joined them and filled in both mine and Sprita's spots. And I saw Taranee swing open one of the many doors that led into the large cafeteria right then, as well.

But I had done everything I could not to focus on any of them, _or_ rush over to one or _all _of them (Well, negating heart breaker _Caleb_, of course) to apologize profusely and reveal how I am nothing without them. I don't know. _Anything_ that might have appeased them (even though it _is_ slightly true how I _am_ nothing without my girls).

And it wasn't easy, given that, while _Taranee_ hadn't yet caught sight of me as she entered, Caleb and definitely _Cornelia _certainly had.

You should have _seen _the look that she was giving me. I wouldn't really say that it was one of the "_Death glare_" variety, though, no. More like the kind of look one would make after having bitten into an _ultra_ hot jalapeño pepper, or something.

We're talking eyes wide open, practically bulging out of their sockets with mouth profoundly hanging agape.

Being that I know the blonde as well as I do, I knew that it wasn't because she now knew that, "Oh, hey! Another one of my best friends is a princess!" or anything (although I'm quite sure that that knowledge alone was doing absolute _wonders_ for her psyche), but because I was now a part of her competition in terms of "fabulous fashion flare" as she calls it. "The three 'F's'," for short.

No. No I'm _not_, trust me. I'm still going to do all that I can to get out of dressing like this on a day to day basis, Cornelia. And even _if_ I unfortunately cannot, I _still _won't and _don't _know a thing about matters like what goes best with pastel colors, or what's out of season or whatever.

But even if I'd walked right up to her right then and told her this, it wouldn't have scraped away that stunned look upon her face any faster, though. It had taken a full _ten minutes_ or so before the gravity of the situation apparently had finally sunk in for her, and I could see her just give me hardened, resentful sort of glances from what I could see as I was seated at my table.

Oh. I'm sure you're wondering what sort of face did _Caleb _make. Don't ask _me_. I'd made sure that I put up mental blinders where _he_ was concerned, as I'm painfully sure that _his_ expression was probably one filled with disgust -- Or worse, _amusement_ at how utterly ridiculous he probably now believes I look.

Whatever.

Anyway. Back to the "pleasant surprise."

Guess who I found waiting patiently for me at the table?

No, not _Blunk_.

I said a _pleasant _surprise, not _stinky_ surprise, regardless of how admittedly close I've grown to the little, otherworldly Passling creature (who's actually now "retired," so to speak, and lives within the world of Zamballa with his "lovely" wife, Burcu, his mother, and _children_ by now, I'm sure. He had told us that "Now that Blunk family man, Blunk need to think more about responsibility than adventuring," and chose to settle down in Zamballa due to the basic 'round the clock protection that the gigantic, living, breathing, talking, and walking violet colored forestry can more than provide to he and his minuscule-sized family. More power to the little dude. At least _one_ of us is now happy, right?).

Give up?

_Irma_.

Yep. Obviously she decided to pick today as the day when she'd skip her Government class yet again, and would join the girls and I for a little pow-wow. Well, not_ I_, since she's mad at me.

Or, so I _thought_, at least, since she was sitting right there at my table, waiting for me, clearly, instead of seated at Cornelia's table and gossiping the period away with _her_.

I approached the table slowly and with unsureness, before gently and awkwardly clearing my throat behind her to get her attention.

After just staring at one another for what felt like eons to me (with her, having raised an eyebrow, soaking in both the new sight of my reinvented appearance and Ernest and Nova), I slowly sat down across from the brunette and weakly managed, "H-hey. . ."

I didn't expect Irma to suddenly start gushing and talking to me like old times or anything right then, no. I'm no fool. But I _did _still believe that she'd at least say something more than she had.

Know why? Because what she _did_ say was absolutely _nothing_.

Zero.

Just continued to sit there within her spot, staring at me while lightly tapping a slender finger upon the smooth surface of the table before her.

And then finally, right when I was beginning to fantasize about preferring to be alone at this table again instead, rather than sit and have to endure the impromptu staring contest that was suddenly going on between the two of us, Irma says, ". . .So are you going to offer me some of your fries, or do I have to do pay some sort of _admittance fee_ to be allowed within the presence of Miss Almighty Bad Ass Princess?"

Exhaling sharply, I instantly began to laugh hysterically for a few moments, before suddenly (and eerily, admittedly) beginning to cry.

I couldn't help it. I was just so relieved that at least _one_ of the girls wasn't feeling boiling mad or betrayed by me.

"Oh, wow. . . O-okay, uh, Will? I mean, I know that not _all_ of my jokes are always that funny, but you don't have to _cry_ about it. You can _keep_ your fries -- _Really_," Irma awkwardly assured me as I felt her gently tap my hand while I was wiping away stray tears with my other (as well as some of my makeup in the process. Yay).

"I-I'm not c-crying for the fries _or_ the joke, Irma! I'm just s-so _happy_ that y-you're not still pissed at me for yesterday!" I gushed as I tried to calm down, using some of the napkins I'd snagged while up in the lunch line to blow my nose with.

Irma wrinkled her own nose a bit at this before smiling with warm sympathy towards me.

"Well_ that's _stupid, considering I was never pissed off at you in the _first_ place," she revealed, which made me look at her in further surprise. "Okay, _okay!_ So yeah. I _was_ a little perturbed by your sudden 'Lemme proverbially bite your head off!' routine yesterday morning, and I _did_ need just a little time to 'deal' with it, which is why I didn't talk or deal with you in gym class later on, with Hay Lin not talking to you either because _she_ was just giving you space -- So no, _she's_ not upset with you, either or ever was. But I _also_ know you. And I know that you don't just have sudden meltdowns like that out of no where just for fun. So I figured that maybe you were just _already_ feeling the pressures of being a senior or whatever -- I know _Taranee_ has, which heavily explains why she's been acting like a _zombie _lately if you haven't noticed, thanks to all of her AP classes. It pays to be average, like yours truly. Although now, apparently, _you're_ anything _but_ average, ain'tcha?"

I smiled softly while sniffling a bit, the forced ice that had been surrounding my heart all morning now completely eradicated at that moment. (Good, because I'm not at all good at pretending as though things don't bother me)

'Bye-bye, apathy! _Hello_, compassion and love for my fellow man! (Well, for my "sisters" that are Irma and Hay Lin, at least, as they're apparently the only two of the W.I.T.C.H. quintet who aren't aggravated by me)

"Now, please _do_ gimme some of your fries, while you tell me all about this and why you didn't tell us from the start. Oh, and stop _crying_ too, _Divalicious_, before your eyeliner runs any _more_ and you end up looking more like a _raccoon_ than a brand new princess. . . '_Sup_," she added the end greeting with a small, acknowledging nod and neutral expression towards both Ernest and Nova, who'd just then lowered their shades a bit to gaze upon the talkative, energetic Water Mistress with a questioning expression.

Good ol' Irma. Not even finding out something as life changing as being a princess and seeing bodyguards can rattle her. I should have known. Well, no. I _did_ sort of know, though, when I'd charted out to Matt the other day the individual reactions the girls would have eventually given to me about all of this.

But I was still stupid to have doubted it _or_ Irma even for a second.

And then, right when I was about to at last explain everything from the beginning to one of my girlfriends, we were suddenly surrounded by two more of them.

Yeah.

Down did Cornelia and Taranee settle at the table (a bit awkwardly, given Ernest and Nova's intimidating presence) with Irma and I, with Caleb having stayed behind with his friends back at the other table (which Cornelia later explained was because she'd told him that she and Taranee were going to go engage in "Girl Talk" with me and Irma and so could stay put if he'd wanted. A miracle. Also don't care).

"Well, well, _well!_ I was _wondering_ when 'Little Miss High and Mighty' would finally decide to join the _little people! _Or, is it now just me and _'Ranee_ who are the little people, now that we have _two_ princesses thrown into the mix, negating 'you-know-who?'" asked Irma with another joyful opine, as she and I watched the Earth Guardian and Fire Queen get comfortably settled within their seats on the other side of the table from me.

Cornelia's creamy cheeks earned a light rouge to them for a brief moment before she frowned generously at the jesting girl to her left while Taranee sat, smartly in between the two of them lest things get physical (which they never do, of course. But you can never be too careful when it comes to the Love/Hate relationship both Irma and Cornelia share with one another).

"_Stow_ it, okay? I was _never_ mad at Will for her attitude yesterday," Cornelia said heatedly, rolling her blue eyes at the brunette to her left.

"Right. And you _steamily_ going on and_ on_ all about how 'rude and disrespect Will's behavior had been' and other things yesterday wasn't you being mad. Sure is a funny, rather innovative way of showing _joy_ then," Irma countered, a devilish grin splayed across her tawny hued visage before stuffing a couple French fires into her mouth.

"Oh! _Bite_ me, Irma!" Cornelia cried with abundant irritation and a raise of her plastic fork that she pointed threateningly towards the younger girl.

"Aww, hey! Is that any way to speak in front of a _queen?_ That's like, what? Penalty of three days in the _stocks_ for _you_, young lady!"

"_Princess_, and I _wouldn't_ speak in _any_ manner if you'd just stop insisting upon _antagonizing_ me every chance that you _get!_"

"Well, it's _because_ I _do_ get 'every chance,' though, Corny! You just make it so _easy!_"

"H-hey! Guys! _Relax!_ I don't think that Will really wants to deal with any _more_ drama right now, all right? Besides, I don't think that my ears can _take_ any further _abuse!_" Taranee interrupted with a swift raise of both of her hands before smiling faintly at me, which in turn made me immediately smile back, because in that one gesture made by her did it mean that Taranee too was not angry with me for my unfortunate actions yesterday.

I _so_ don't deserve these girls as my best friends, but am ever thankful that they are.

". . .Right. Sorry, Will," Irma was the first to apologize, while Cornelia looked disgruntled and folded her arms across her chest. "_So!_ Ya gonna fill us in about how all of this came to be, or no? I mean, this_ is_ why you've been acting crazy lately, right?"

I nodded with a small, embarrassed grin before I finally and without further interruption told the girls the whole story (and decidedly bypassed Cornelia's unappreciated remark of how at least now my "poor, _obvious _lie" about Sprita having been my cousin instead of former bodyguard -- as I'd also explained _that_ to them, and said how she'd just been transferred, rather than fired -- is now exposed). Well, the whole story, negating the trip to Meridian to consult with Elyon, because we obviously weren't alone and had to deal with Ernest and Nova standing there the entire time.

No worries, though, because I had told them (the girls, I mean), before we'd all parted ways after lunch, that I had more to tell them a little later. I just need to find enough free, private time, to do so, and we'll be set.

Until that time, however, let me backtrack a bit, back to lunchtime.

Irma whistled after I'd finished my "confession," periodically helping herself to some of Taranee's and my food.

"That's _some_ story, all right. And what _luck_ too, huh? I mean, I always figured that if something _this_ bizarre had ever happened, it'd have happened to _Cornykins_," she said with a gesture towards the still brooding blonde to her right. "Which is _probably_ why she is_ clearly_ all up in arms about this, because she was most likely thinking the same thing. _Right?_"

To which Cornelia immediately replied, with an exasperated air, "Irma, I _swear_ to _God_, if --", before Taranee tactfully interrupted with, "-- _Most_ importantly, though, how are you handling everything, Will?"

A question I strangely wasn't expecting. I don't know why, really. I mean, it's been more or less asked on many a occasion before by concerned people (i.e. Elyon, Matt, Eddie, etc). But I suppose since this is all pretty much a done deal, I didn't really think that I'd be asked it yet again.

Nonetheless, I'd taken a moment to think about it before I said, ". . .I don't know anymore, really. Not _happy_ about it, of course. But I _mainly_ feel numb, as well, since no matter the amount of protest given by me, my uncle is _very_ unrelenting. And I don't know why, really. I mean, why would he want someone like _me_ to rule, when I've never even _heard _of the country before all of this had happened."

"So then I guess you don't _also_ know that you now stand to inherit a _tremendous_ amount of wealth for having done basically nothing to deserve it, too, right?" Cornelia asked dryly, before taking a sip of her water after finishing her meal.

As happy as I was to have her talking to me again, I still didn't appreciate her continuous tone of contempt.

Still, I replied, just as curtly, "I don't suppose that it will be any different than _your_ standing to eventually inherit the wealth -- _also_ for doing basically nothing to deserve it -- that your parents possess. . ._ Anyway_, yes, I'm _sure_ that Eli has a lot of money from exports or whatever."

Before Cornelia could viciously retaliate as she was obviously about to, Taranee yet again saved the day, with a heavy, tired sigh, and said, "What I'm sure Cornelia _meant_ to say was, according to the news, including export and tourist revenue, personal art and other such leisurely collections as well as real estate, your uncle the king's personal worth is approximately around that of over four hundred seventy million dollars."

At this, both Irma and myself roughly choked simultaneously upon our own beverages in surprise.

FOUR HUNDRED SEVENTY MILLION DOLLARS?

Eli, the stuffy, unyielding and _torturous _relative of mine is worth more money than I'd _ever_ hoped to see in my _lifetime???? _

That's a _supremely_ impressive earning.

Maybe I should be a little more _nice_ to him, at the risk of sounding like some sort of money-grubber or whatever.

Then again, all of that money will eventually be mine _anyway_, right? So, okay. Never mind on the being nice to the guy.

"_Holy shiznit!_ Oh, my God! Oh, my _God_, do I _love_ you, Will! I _do!_ I _seriously_ do!" Irma was the first to express with extra exuberance as she reached over the table to seize both of my hands to kiss repeatedly. "Do you have _any_ idea what this means? We're talking massive _syndication! _Nation to nation! The whole world _over!_"

"Irma, _what_ are you _talking_ about?" Cornelia asked with annoyance, although curiosity began to shine forth from her eyes at the same time.

"_Durf!_ I'm _talking_ about _talk shows!_ Radio _and_ T.V.! _Live!_ You and _me_, Will! _All_ the way! And for _starters_, we should_ totally_ buy out old man Brooks for rights and whatever to _KHETH!__That_ way I'd _truly_ and at _last_ have control over everything! _Censorship_, my _ass!_" Irma articulated with such increased energy (which I didn't even think was possible in such an already energetic girl).

"_Oookay_. Clearly, Irma's now _completely_ lost it," Taranee said just as the bell had rung, ending that period. "But, anyway, _speaking_ of the news, it was so _weird_ to see you on the television and talked about on practically every channel. I didn't get to watch long because it was my dad's poker night with some of his high school buddies and he said that the less I'd watch of whatever they might have put out about you, the better for us _all_. Still, though. . . _weird_, like I said."

"You're preaching to the _choir_ on _that _one," I concurred with a soft, defeated smile as all four of us gathered up our belongings to carry and food wrappers to throw away.

"_I_ didn't watch _any_ of it, myself. There were _far_ more important things to watch or captivate my _equally_ important attention," Cornelia said as a low blow while tossing her empty water bottle into the recycling bin near one of the cafeteria doors.

Irma rolled her eyes.

"_Yeah_, then how did you know about how much '_Daddy Warbucks_' is worth?"

"It's called '_knowledge_,' Irma. You should try _having_ some for a change," Cornelia replied evenly with an abrupt toss of her long, luxurious blonde locks.

"Oh, but I _do!_ Like, I have _knowledge_ over the fact that your _latest_ B.F. is because you're just _jealous_ that someone has _usurped_ your royal title!" Irma countered without missing a beat with a dismissive wave of her hand, as Caleb and his friends began to head towards the door where we were (which made me feel even more uncomfortable than I was already, what with the dangerous, current topic of discussion).

"_What?_ B.F.? I am _not_ having a '_Bitch Fit!_' Nor am I_ jealous!_ _Hardly!_" Cornelia practically screamed within Irma's vaguely surprised face, cheeks growing hot the moment her boyfriend had reached her side to exit the cafeteria with the rest of us.

And this went on, even _after_ we'd all parted ways. That is, Irma kept accusing Cornelia of being spiteful, while _Cornelia_ either denied or deflected the claim as the two girls walked down the hallway together with Caleb noticeably trailing a bit behind. (Probably didn't want to be any part of their latest debate. Can't say that I blame him)

Do_ I_ believe that Cornelia _was _just being jealous? It's highly possible, sure. Then again, there are _others_ all about who now feel the same sentiment towards me. But does it _matter_ to me if she is? So long as she doesn't make her currently embittered attitude a steady habit of things, then I can live.

Anyway, that wasn't my focus at that time.

_Taranee_ was.

I wanted to tell her how relieved I was that she'd only been acting "off" lately because of her school load as Irma had filled me in on, appreciatively, and wasn't anything far more serious.

So (instead of doing the usual trailing behind Caleb that I do on our same path to English class -- even though he always first _makes out _with Cornelia, which always grosses me out to witness, before they part ways, with her going up the nearby staircase to get to her next class -- so it'd sort of feel as though he were walking with _me_ instead) I stayed with her for a bit, outside of her classroom that's only just a few feet away from her next class.

Lucky _her_, since _my_ English class is clear across on the other side of the school, which takes (if you don't sprint your _butt_ off, that is) approximately _seven minutes_. And there's only _four_ minutes in between periods before the late rings.

Yes. My school is _that _huge. At least it's a _good_ example, however, of our tax money at work. (Well, maybe not _my_ tax money, but you understand)

But I was willing to risk being marked tardy by Wojick if it meant knowing for sure that my best friend was all right. Taranee had asked why I was still here, instead of hightailing it to class as I always do after lunch, and I told her why.

To which she lightly blushed at and replied, "Oh. . . _wow_. Well, I'd hate for your to get in trouble over _me_."

I merely smirked.

"Considering that I _already_ have detention after school today with Wojick, anyway -- Long story, don't ask -- I don't think that this will cause any _more_ friction. _Besides_, you're my best pal, T. It's my _job_ to make sure that you're _always_ okay."

Taranee hugged me generously at this.

"I have a hunch, though, that your _new_ 'job' is more along the lines of maintaining civil diplomacy among the people on a _much_ more grandiose scale," she remarked with a grin, before releasing me. "But I still appreciate your concern. I'm okay, though -- _Really_. Just. . . _stress_. . . I didn't want to bother or worry you guys, since you're not the only one to have asked if anything was wrong."

I studied the raven haired girl's face, trying to see if _her_ dismal lying skills (or lack thereof) hadn't yet improved over the years. But from what _I_ could see, anyway, she seemed to be telling the truth.

"Yeah? Nothing major to report? The family's good? Nigel? All of that?"

Taranee nodded earnestly, although with a gentle smile.

"Yes, yeah. Thanks for the checking on me though, '_Mom_.' You'd better start _running_, though, before you really _are_ late to class. But before you do, seriously: Thanks a lot for caring, and sorry that I'd worried you."

Before I left and began to madly dash down the long hallway like an Olympic sprinter, I said, "Well, hey. Stress or not, I was thinking that maybe you and me could go and do something together, just the two of us. You know, 'girlfriends night out' type of thing. And then, if there really_ is_ something up you can tell me. No pressure, though!"

". . .If you're sure that you're now not too busy for that or anything now, then that'd be _great_. . . _Your_ _Highness_," Taranee replied with an amused simper, winking at me before going into her classroom.

Sure.

If by "not too busy" you mean having to juggle school, projects, trying not to fail, handling princess lessons _and_ the "homework" that comes with it, while _also_ dealing with staying _only_ a trillion steps ahead of the paparazzi and their fellow media posse and such, then of _course _I have time!

I don't care, though.

I'M JUST SO HAPPY TO HAVE EACH OF MY FRIENDS BACK!!

Now I can receive their wise advice and also try to encompass each of their unique qualities as part of my own.

For example: Taranee's intellectual prowess and point of view to help me make _less_ stupid decisions. _ Irma's_ natural thrive for the spotlight and ability to keep cool throughout most situations (which would _definitely_ also assist in preventing me from making less stupid decisions). Cornelia's grace and elegance, in addition to keen fashion sense and ability to keep up with the latest trends without much effort. And then finally, _Hay Lin's_ fantastically unique style for just about _everything_, going against the grain, marching to the beat of her own drum and yet _still_ manages to have a lot of friends and not to be labeled as "weird." (_I_ would be so lucky)

Oh, and plus, Hay Lin's cultural know-how (like her paintings and knowing _other _fellow artists and _their_ styles and stuff) would probably _also _come in _massive_ handy if ever I have to host a party with some prestigious painter as my guest.

I wouldn't want to offend that person by not knowing any of their work, let _alone_ who they are.

● **6th Period, English (ABCD Day)  
**

Yes, I was about two minutes late to class (Surprise, surprise) which had awarded me _more_ ridicule from my peers once again, _this _time of how "now that she's a _princess_, she apparently thinks that she's _above_ the rules of this school," I could faintly hear being said from behind me after I'd settled into my seat.

_Yeah_.

Dare to _dream_.

But it didn't help much towards my cause when Ms. Wojick didn't seem to have given me a mark next to my name within her attendance and grade book for being late (as she normally does for her other students if ever they're late, as well). She just gave me a look that said "Don't do it again," although she also had a small but still detectable smile upon her face as she watched me walk into the room with my bodyguards.

Despite that, however, I'm pretty positive that Ms. Wojick, without a doubt, would be one of the _last_ of my teachers to ever play favorites with me, even _with_ extenuating circumstances such as these.

I am.

But try convincing the _rest_ of my class of this.

Because for the rest of that particular class time (which had been spent doing group work upon the latest chapter of _Tuesdays With Morrie_ we'd all finished reading, and then afterwards to get a head start upon our latest poetry assignment, an "I Am" poem, that's due at the end of the week. What am I going to do with _this?_ Even _with_ all of the drama that's been going on that should provide me with _oodles_ of inspirational material -- just as it should for my Public Speaking assignment but still doesn't -- I have_ no_ idea what to write. Plus, I really _don't_ have any clue who or _what_ I am anymore, anyway), my group I'd been placed within made _sure_ that I was aware of their disdain.

And to make matters worse, _Caleb_ had also been placed within my group, as well.

I just want to know one thing: Why is it that, now that I've been so _hopelessly_ wrong about the former man of my dreams and am (not really) over him, that I'm also suddenly and ironically thrust into various circumstances _with _him more often?

I mean,_ yeah_, we sit next to each other in this class, and yes, we'd already previously seen one another today. But this is seriously the first time that we've been put into a group together. And I've _only_ been waiting for this for _forever_.

And now, sadly, it's been _tainted_. Especially since I was _also_ discomfited to have to talk to him after the whole incident of yesterday and now my unveiling as a budding royal.

Hey. Just because I may be over the hope and notion of ever being with him (again, not _really_. . . Well, _kind_ of. I don't know), doesn't mean that I can't still be _abashed _to now be talking to him as_ royalty_.

Everything was going fine (well, if you don't count the frequent scoffs or purposefully sarcastic responses made by the three other people in my group, anyway, whenever I might have said something in contribution to the exercise), until we'd reached the final question given to us by Ms. Wojick to answer:

"_On page one hundred and forty-nine, Morrie refers to one of his most favorite quotes: '__Love each other or perish.' What do you believe this quote means to him? What does it mean to __you_"

Easy enough question, right? Well, for _me_, at least, since like I've mentioned before, I'm not that bad in English. But what made it so horrible to have to analyze and answer was because it was about_ love_. I didn't know about the _rest_ of my group mates, but I had a clear cut response for it, because after having read that quote when I'd first read the chapter, it had become one of _my_ favorite quotes, as well. (Then again, I was _also_ still confident that Caleb wanted me in return when I'd read it) And although I'd wanted to just blurt out the answer (since no one _else _was just yet), I'd decided it best to just sit there and pretend as though I was thinking hard about it.

It didn't matter, though, because one smart mouthed bitch in the group, Rena, had to go and volunteer me for the job.

"Well, since none of us apparently have a say on the matter just yet, why don't we let the _princess_ answer? I mean, after_ all_, love and being _in_ love is what being a princess is all about, right? Waiting _helplessly_ for her true love to come rescue her from the big, bad wolf or whatever," she said with a devilish smirk across from me after we'd all placed our desks together.

"That's '_Little Red Riding Hood_,' Rena -- The big, bad wolf. Something _you_ could put to shame, with the size of _your_ fangs," Rena's friend (who'd apparently been eavesdropping from behind her), Dan, had countered on my behalf with a smirk of his own.

Thank you, Dan, even though you and I never really talk or know one another so well.

Having been shot down and cut down to size by this, Rena merely scoffed and folded her arms across her chest before Caleb suddenly asked, "Well. . . what _do_ you think of the quote, Wi -- I mean, _Princess?__Someone _might as well try to answer the question before the class time is up."

Surprised to suddenly hear him directing a question (or anything, _period_) towards me since the start of the exercise, I gasped sharply as a result, my cheeks growing very hot in intermingled embarrassment and dread. One, for the fact that I'd just exhaled so loudly and earned a few surrounding stares and snickers, (Of course) and two, because Caleb had called me "Princess."

As _disastrous_ as that is, I'm also really not surprised that he would instantly be overly respectful towards me and refer to me by my stupid royal title and such. I mean, he's all _about_ the respect. At least, he always is whenever within the presence of _Queen Elyon_.

But, still.

Kill me, now, please. Kill me, now. Because if all I'll _ever_ hear come out of that boy's mouth is "Princess, Princess, _Princess,_" my heart will stop _anyway_ from _overly _extensive mortification.

So, taking a moment to recover, I opened, closed, and then reopened my mouth as my mind had suddenly gone blank. So ironic, huh?

"We're _waaaiiitttiiinnnggg_," Rena said with a dramatic yawn for aftereffect, her deep brown eyes gazing lazily upon me.

That rude gesture was enough to jump start my brain as I glared back at her, growing tremendously tired of hers and everyone _else's_ equally rude behavior.

"Sure. No _problem_, Rena," I said as sweetly as I could manage, before clearing my throat and staring her down. ". . .To _me_, at least, I believe that the quote serves to encompass all of Morrie's thoughts, feelings, views and beliefs upon the topic of love in the general sense as _well_ as love and marriage. I mean. . . when you get right down to it, _all_ of us need someone to love and to share a love _with_. It's one of the most important things that makes life _truly_ worth living. So. . . without it. . . without experiencing that uplifting feeling of knowing that there is at least _one_ person out there who truly loves you and _only_ you. . . even if we'd all live to be _one thousand years old_, all of those years would have been for naught and so _fruitless_, because a life without love _isn't_ really a life at _all._ . ."

Whoa. Did that come out of _my_ mouth? I'm thinking that my group mates were thinking the same thing, as well, because the expressions each of their faces (and those close enough around us to have been privy to my "speech") had _basically_ illustrated the same thought. But _surprisingly_, with _also_ a bit of respect and admiration for such an insightful thought.

But that wasn't even the _worst_ (or best, depending upon how you look at it) part. As I looked from person to person within my group, I'd looked at Caleb in passing.

And get _this_. He looked _far_ more flustered than _I _was. _Why?_ Just because I proved to you that I'm not as _stupid_ or incoherent as you probably believe me to be?

He sat there next to me, peering at me like a fish who had just been placed out of its tank and onto dry land or something, and even _after _I'd looked away from him and looked down at my open notebook, I could _still_ feel him (and again, everyone _else_, really) gazing at me.

No, wait. I was wrong for calling that the worst part.

The _super_ worst part was that I was beginning to feel _tears_ lightly forming within my eyes as my mind began to replay what I'd just finished saying. Of _course_ I would have been able to answer this question as profoundly as I have. I mean, after all, I _am_ currently living a life without love. Well, between a man and woman type of love, anyway. And I know that I keep putting up a front that I'm all right and will be (which I suppose, in time, I truly_ will_ be, since it's not the first time in my life where I've been rejected), it's still all very painful for me to deal with.

And then to have to answer such an emotionally exposing question, while seated next to the fleeted desire of your heart, is just absolutely _catastrophic_.

But there's nothing I can do about it, I have to keep reminding myself. I just have to remember Eli's one and _only_ piece of useful advice of how princesses have to always keep their cool within the public eye.

Still. Tell_ that_ to my heart and watering eyeballs.

It didn't end there, though.

At the end of class, I'd stayed behind to tell Ms. Wojick that I'd see her after school for detention, and she surprised me by saying, ". . .Chances are that recent events have been punishment _enough_ for you. . . _Besides_, I wouldn't want to go down in history as the teacher who'd given detention to such a wonderfully bright and_ insightful_ young woman -- who now just also happens to be _sovereign_ to a prestigious monarchy. . . I always _knew_ that you'd be destined for such greatness, Will. . . and now the whole -- and perhaps even especially a few _specific_ individuals within said world, hopefully -- will be able to see it, too. . ."

Oh. You're killing me.

I know that Ms. Wojick likes me and always likes to tell me every chance she gets (especially after handing back some of my assignments) that I have so much potential and should think about a career in literature. But now she's _really_ going to expect nothing _but_ perfection from me for the rest of the year.

I wonder, though, a little bit about what she meant by "specific individuals." And the knowing sort of smile she had upon her face. She probably just foolishly believes that I'm now going to be some sort of _guy_ magnet.

So far, _not_ so good. But I honestly wouldn't_ mind _getting back into the dating game.

Me and my heart _have_ to move on, I write again like a broken record.

Anyway, maybe she had sensed my chagrin, because before I exited the room, Ms. Wojick offered the invitation to come talk to her any time I might feel the need to and/or feel overwhelmed. I actually wanted to, but then I thought about how it'd look to the other kids if I kept talking to her whenever I felt like. The _last_ thing I need now is to be accused of being a teacher's pet.

I'd told her so, to which she promptly agreed.

_Then_ she instead wrote down her e-mail address, handed it to me and said, "Then here. E-mail me any time you'd like after school hours. I'm _not_ your teacher, Ms. Wojick, during those hours -- I'm just plain ol' Daisy Wojick, concerned individual and hopeful friend who's _only _six years older than you. So it isn't as though I'm 'too old' to remember how it felt to be in high school, myself. Plus, in _this_ way, no one will be able to accuse you of being a teacher's pet if our interaction is through cyberspace. Just nothing _too_ personal or inappropriate, okay?"

With mixed feelings I left the classroom, stuffing Ms. Wojick's e-mail address into my pocket, and made my way towards the nearest staircase that led up to my Economics class (that was thankfully right at the top of the stairs, so I at least can never be late. . . unfortunately, actually, since this class bores me to tears, as well).

But then as I got closer to it, there's Caleb standing at the top of the first flight, as other students swiftly passed by. This, of course, made me a little bit curious, since his next class, Shop, was on the first floor and the great seven minute distance back towards the second cafeteria where we'd both had just come from.

Yet, clearly aware of this, there he was, just standing and dillydallying around.

And even though I was _also_ aware of this _and_ his presence, I honestly didn't even think to believe that he was waiting for me.

Why _would_ I?

So, with that notion, I just continued on up the stairway right past him without much thought. But of course, once I'd reached the top of the stairs and heard my name being called with his familiar voice (that pains more than it soothes me to hear) and felt a hand gently seize my shoulder, I hadn't a choice _but_ to stop.

"Uh. . . C-Caleb. . . hey. Shouldn't you be going back down _that_ way to class?" I asked as calmly and as nonchalantly as I could, giving the brunet a look that felt like a frown but was really just me trying my best to appear as though he no longer affected me. (Not like he'd ever noticed, anyway. I'm really bitter now towards him, I know. Sorry. I just don't really take rejection of the heart so well. Like I said, it's happened before in the past and I'd survived. But I still don't take it well. I either cry a lot and get depressed, or resent the piss out of the "rejector." I guess _Caleb's_ special, because I'm obviously currently experiencing a little bit of _both_ sentiments at once)

My facial expression must have appeared a bit _too_ intimidating, because Caleb kind of backed up a bit, looked at me, then to my looming bodyguards behind me, and then back at me before asking, ". . .Are. . . you okay, Your Highness?"

I sighed lightly.

"_Please_, Caleb. . . Yes. All right. I'm a princess now, too," I said softly, moving further down the hall and beckoning Caleb to follow while Ernest and Nova stayed a little bit at bay. (At least they listen if I tell them to do something like that. Provides me _some_ bit of space) "But just because you're so observant of these types of formalities and stuff like how you are with _Elyon_, I'm actually telling you -- as_ proof_, that it's okay to just keep calling me 'Will.' Please."

Pursing his lips together a moment, as though suppressing a thought, Caleb instead slowly nodded.

"All right. . . I mean, as long as you're _okay_ with that. . . But please don't be afraid to speak up to tell me if it bothers you."

"I'm not afraid of _anything_," I said, a bit _too_ swiftly, and blushed softly as a result. I didn't mean to snap like that. But I'd found myself growing a bit resentful. The last thing I needed as well was for Caleb to add "Scaredy-Cat" to the growing list of poor traits he believes I possess.

_Told_ you that I'm a bit too resentful and shut off to him now. . . Survival tactic.

Caleb looked at me with briefly widened eyes a moment before narrowing them a bit, obviously a bit on guard now, himself.

"And I never said that you _were_. I just meant that if you're overly _offended_ by what I say, you don't have to bite your tongue, so to speak. . . You can talk to me," he explained, a light frown upon his face.

". . .All right. Well. . . I'm talking to you _now_. . . What's up?" I asked, tucking hair behind my ear. I began to grow self conscious of the fact that he and I were alone together again (Well, sort of) two days in a row now. And then, as a result, my insides began to grow knotted with butterflies.

My mind started to chant, over and over, _Just spit it out. . . Just spit it out!_ whatever he wanted to say so I could get to class and recover from my resurfacing adoration for the ex-Rebel Leader.

"Well, Cornelia was telling me the story you told her, Taranee, and Irma at lunch of how this all happened. . ." he began, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah? A-and?" I replied shakily, shifting my weight back and forth.

"Yeah. . . That's pretty amazing. . . I mean. . . four hundred seventy million dollars, a royal title. . . A new country. . . I guess you really have it _all_ or _could_ now if you wanted. . ." he trailed off with a flat, tired tone, staring at me expectantly.

Unsure of what to say since I'd never really thought of that, as I myself had just found out how much money I might receive, I just sheepishly shrugged and said, "I. . . _guess_. . . I mean. . . I haven't really thought about it. . ."

"Oh. . . so, then. . . Have you not also thought of what this will mean for. . . _you_ know. . . your _Guardian_ duties. . .?" he whispered the end as he leaned closer to me to do so, which nearly made me lose my mind.

ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME ON PURPOSE, O LORD?? 

I _get_ that Caleb doesn't like me like that! I'm trying to move _on_ from that! So, please stop torturing me like this!!

Blinking rapidly to keep my cool, I looked at the emerald eyed young man and said, as sedately as I could and averting my gaze from him, "Obviously _this_ is why you wanted to talk to me. . . A-anyway, yes I've thought about it -- _A lot_, trust me. And I already plan to talk to the girls about it. But I mean, I'm sure that the Oracle doesn't expect us all to be Guardians _forever. . ._"

I know that I should have filled him in on my Metamoor adventure and the potential threat (or rumor, rather) that now plagues Elyon's mind right then. But I want to tell _everyone_ about it all at once.

Plus, there was like, only one minute left before the bell rang.

Regardless, Caleb took it as a sign that our conversation was over as he merely nodded in understanding right when the bell _had_ rung just then.

"Oh! Sh. . . I'm late. And so are _you_, I'm sorry, Princ -- _Will_. Anyway, I'm glad that you haven't forgotten about your obligation to the Heart, even _if_ there's thankfully peace reigning supreme within my world of Metamoor currently," he said lightly, bowing towards me in respect. "However, when you _do_ talk to the girls about where. . . your being royalty, yourself, will mean for the other Guardians, please let me know, okay? So that _I_ can be present and all. . . 'Bye."

And then he left.

Of course I'll be sure to let you know -- _Not_.

On second thought, no. Can't do that. To tell everyone at once about my visit with Elyon, as in Caleb, included.

Because any _more_ direct contact with that guy and I'll just fall _further_ back in love with him. . .

● **7th Period, Economics (ABCD Day)**

I'm not even going to bother to get more detailed (mainly because I'm running out of time) with this because it's pretty much a repeat of all of my _other_ classes. That is, of more homework and more kids either loving or _hating_ on me now.

But at least my teacher, Mr. Tucci, seems to have remained the same: Likes me when I actually pay attention and do well, and _disappointed_ in me whenever I do not.

But get this: My latest, big and super important assignment, also due before Thanksgiving break, is I have to choose one economic policy we've learned thus far and apply to the country of our choice.

You know, illustrate how it helps whatever said country and crap.

Well, we _were_ about to choose our own country, until just about _every_ kid in the class objected at how unfair it is, because I might just have chosen Marsily, which would obviously give me "an unfair advantage."

To which Tucci countered with, "True. But then the same could be said for the rest of _you_ if you'd chosen _America_. . . which is why I'm probably better off assigning the countries to you, _myself_."

_Thank_ you, Mr. Tucci. That's a good point.

Still.

As _if!_ Like I'd really want to do _anything_ that focuses upon Marsily, even _if_ it'd increase my chances at a better grade. (Not really, though, since my knowledge in relation to the country is around that of _two percent_ right now)

I got stuck with Italy, anyhow.

_Another_ country I don't know supremely much about. Not the political stuff, anyway. No clue what policy to apply, though.

I'll ask the girls for ideas.

Despite my zero lack in interest in economics, it's a good thing that my grade is around a B-.

I _think_.

Because beside the final coming up (since this class is only half a semester), this assignment will _really_ decide my fate of whether I pass or not.

And as for who else might have gotten Marsily or America instead? _No_ one did.

So _there_, you crybabies.

● **8th Period, Math (ABCD Day)**

Finally. The last class of the day. It'd taken me so long to get here, writing it, that it was as though I'd relived it all. In a way, I guess I sort of _have_.

Well, anyway.

Even though it's math and we all know that I hate it, I was admittedly looking forward to it most.

Because I wanted to see Matt and see if he was still mad, and if so try to see if he wouldn't forgive me.

But wouldn't you know it? Ms. Kopilak decided to "celebrate" my "princess hood" so to speak by giving us all a pop quiz.

One that I _totally_ bombed since I haven't really been on my game with notes and such lately.

But I _will_ also _thank_ Kopilak for said quiz, because if she hadn't given it and I didn't apparently look so haggard over it after begrudgingly handing my paper forward, then I don't think Matt would have bothered to talk to me at all.

Because after the quiz, Ms. Kopilak gave us bookwork to do and to work with the person next to us if we'd wanted. "But quietly," she said, and since the person next to me on my left and Matt's right was absent, he gets up and sits in their spot to be next to me. (Thank _God_ for the recent seat assignment changes, and I'm now seated towards the back more. _So_ much more self conscious about my semi-blah math skills when forced to sit near the front in _any_ math class I've had throughout my scholastic career. I keep telling Kopilak this, but _she_ just says in return that it's just my excuse to get out of being picked on to go up to the board or answer questions. No, because you pick on me still, _anyway_, no matter _where_ I am. I just prefer towards the back of the room because then I can at least look a _little_ less thickheaded when and if I get an answer wrong)

I was surprised by this act, of course, but was grateful for it.

But Matt didn't say anything for a while, or even looked at me, for like, over twelve minutes or so. So with nothing _else_ to do, I just tried to force myself to look at my book and start doing the problems.

But then after having successfully completed around three, I suddenly hear Matt lightly say, "So. . .now that you're 'out,' does that mean that I'm a part of your _entourage_ or something?"

I nearly began to cry all over again as I had over my elation of Irma's and everyone else's forgiveness (as well as back when I'd believed that Matt hated me the first time around). But I'd managed to stop myself in time to instead let out a relieved exhale and giggle at the same time.

Looking happily at him, I said, "S-sure, if it's what you want. _Anything_ you want! And did I mention that I really _love_ you?"

Matt gently tapped my hand with his pencil and smiled a small, warm smile.

"Yes, you have, ma'am. And I obviously think _you're_ swell, too, or else I wouldn't be talking to you now."

"So. . . does that mean you forgive me. . . for the other night?" I asked carefully.

"Well. . . it _did_ really piss me off, I won't lie. I mean, I went home and ended up messing up most of my bedroom -- Well, _sort_ of. Okay, well, I _didn't_. But I _did_ lose a lot of feathers when I'd punched my pillow a few times. . . But yes, I'm fine. I know that you didn't mean or had control over what your mom and uncle said or think about me. But at least now everything is out in the open. And I _told_ you that it wouldn't be so bad that everyone knows, 'Worries-A-Lot' Missy. And _thankfully_, no more _lying! _Yay!" Matt finished with a playful, light clap of his hands at this.

"Well. . . maybe _not_, no. . . but I still wouldn't say that everything is great and well. . ." I remark, my mind replaying everything that'd happened this day, excluding the media hoopla, before I filled him in on it all.

Matt only smiled after I'd finished.

"Well, it just sounds like you're very popular now. 'America's Favorite Redhead,'" he teased after we'd both finished another math problem, this time together. "As _well_ as one of 'America's Most Sexy,' with this new version of you. Why didn't you ever doll up like this when we were _together?_ I wouldn't have _dumped_ you if I knew you could clean up so nicely."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed.

"Oh, so we're back to _this_ again, huh? _I_ dumped _you_. But thanks for the compliment, even though a _part_ of it was _also_ an _insult_. But at least you still _had_ complimented me, though. . ." I trailed off with a reflective air, my cheeks growing red a bit.

Matt, knowing me so well as he does, grinned knowingly.

"Ohh. . . Aww, poor sweetheart. So I guess '_Lover Boy_' didn't tell you how _delicious_ you look now, and so wishes to tear your one thousand dollar worth clothes off and do _unspeakable_ acts to you?"

"My _God_, do you _ever_ need a new girlfriend -- You _sure_ you won't give '_Scary Mary'_ a chance?" I playfully tormented with a wrinkle of my nose and giggle. "_Anyway_, no. '_He_' didn't say anything. . . Well, not about me or like that, at least. Just asked what this now means for. . . _you_ know. My _other_ responsibilities. The million dollar question and all that. . ."

Matt nodded lightly in understanding and with a small, sympathetic smile.

"Yeah. . . Well, that guy _was_ always pretty stiff and slow on the uptake. All business and no pleasure and all that. It's a _wonder_ that he's been in a relationship for as long as he has. Oh! Uh. . . _sorry_. Not what you want to hear, I know. But. . . on that _same_ note, he _is_ in a relationship and _has_ been a while. . . so. . ."

"I know, I _know_. 'So give up and move on.' _Way_ ahead of you there, since he'd finally confirmed that I have no chance in _Hell_ with him -- I'll tell you about that later," I said with a sigh. "But it doesn't mean that it'll _be_ easy for me to forget and recover so swiftly, especially since he's my best friend's boyfriend. . . But anyway, I'll survive, eventually. . ."

"Yeah. . . But at least now you know where you stand with him. . . and where you _don't_. . ." Matt said as gently as possible, lightly patting my arm in comfort. "And the plus side is now you also have your _girlfriends_ back. . . and _Martin_ to comfort you, apparently. Shall I be expecting a wedding invitation?"

At this the bell rang, which was good because I had had enough of math problems and talk of marrying or _not_ marrying Martin Tubbs.

Nooo, way.

But at least all is well within the land. _Sort_ of.

I mean, at least I got every last one of my (truly) important friends back.

_And_ got a tutor in Matt, which is good, because after hearing all of the answers he'd written down for the pop quiz, I _really_ know now that I completely failed.

It's a good thing that _this_ class isn't half a semester, too, or there'd be _no_ hope of redemption.

● **Immediately After School**

Since I now had time to myself for a bit, I'd finally realized, now that Ms. Wojick had canceled detention, I thought that I would then use that time to tell the girls about my Meridian visit. And I didn't care _what_ Ernest and Nova had to say about it (which surprisingly hadn't been much, except ". . .That is fine, Your Highness. . . for a _little_ while. But please do not try to stray even further from the schedule." Obviously Nova had brought her "A game" with her today, staying alert at all times and making sure not to make the same "mistake" as Sprita had by actually being human. But, really. What's an hour with my girlfriends, instead of an hour in _detention?_ I mean, Eli won't be expecting me until an hour from now, regardless. So just leave it alone, woman).

But the only thing left to worry about now was where to go where I'd have enough privacy in general, let alone for what I had to say to the girls.

So, after consulting with Matt about my current plans, he'd suggested that I tell the girls to meet me in one of the bathrooms that's towards the far back of school.

"I mean, _that_ way you can lock the door and have a bit of guaranteed privacy since it's in the back -- I doubt that anyone left on campus would travel all the way to 'No Man's Land' _just_ to let loose a stream," Matt reasoned a bit disgustingly before we'd parted ways. He _would_ have attended the "meeting" but he, Nigel, and the rest of their latest formated band, "Good Source Rosin" (which I have _no_ clue where the inspiration for the name had come, but is still kind of catchy) had to rehearse.

So I was going it alone, so to speak. After telepathically sending a message to Taranee, asking her to meet me at that specific bathroom before leaving campus and for the others to do the same, I made my way over there, as well.

Only thing left was to ask Nova to wait outside for me. But she wouldn't budge, no matter what I'd excuse I'd hurl at her. I'd told her that it'd only take a second, in which case she replied, "So then it will be no bother for me at all if it _will_ only take a second, Princess."

_Then_ I said that it might actually be longer, because I'd ordered a chili dog last night at the Plaza (which was a lie, but she wasn't there yet at that time to have known).

_Nothing_.

She counters with, "I have had extensive underwater training, Your Highness."

I didn't get the relation, so I stupidly asked, "So?"

And she tells me why.

"'So' therefore, I am able -- quite efficiently, I might add -- to hold my breath for extended periods of time. . ."

_Eww_.

So, frustrated, I was about to call the whole thing off with the girls and let Taranee know via the mind when I suddenly saw a very excited looking (Nothing new there) Hay Lin practically sprinting her way down the hall to greet me. She looked like a Technicolor dream, the way her petite, lithe frame was currently and a bit mysteriously covered head to toe with different shades of splatted paint.

It's a good thing that this particular area of the school was already pretty empty by then, or else I'm sure that one of the many hall monitors who lurk about would have given the cheerful Windy Maiden a detention slip or something, the way her sneakers were leaving faint, multicolored footprints as she walked.

I guess the look upon my face had said it all, my confusion, because as soon as she was close enough, Hay Lin said, "Oh! New art project -- which I have to get back to in a bit -- I'm working on. I'm trying to see what shapes I can create with my body, although at this rate, I'm probably just better off converting it straight into a body art project, instead!"

That's right. I forgot.

Hay Lin had joined an art club that meets every Tuesday and Thursday immediately after school, until four o'clock. But she says that it's pretty much a "come and go as you please, and do whatever comes to mind or inspires you" type of club, with little to no rules or massive structure. (Sounds like my kind of club. Too bad I can really only draw stick figures and nothing more)

Unfortunately for _me_, however, before I'd realized what she was about to do (or she could, herself) or before she could stop herself, Hay Lin nearly toppled me over as she enveloped me within a generous bear hug.

Great. I'd spent all day, having managed to stay pretty clean and "flawless," and _now_ look at me. My formerly white top _now_ has a green, red, and yellow colored imprint of where Hay Lin's torso and arms had been.

The press is going to _love_ this, huh? Even my _hair_ has a few streaks of pink and black within my red colored bangs.

I could see what looked like a small smirk forming upon Nova's fair visage at this (_Bitch_) as Hay Lin blushed furiously and apologized profusely after releasing me.

"Oh! Oh, _crap! _Oh, W-_Will!_ No, wait! _Princess! _I'm so _sorry!_" she expressed frantically, bowing in respect towards my bodyguards and myself. "Ugh! I wasn't _thinking!_ I was just so excited to get to see you at _all_ today -- _You _know, because of all of this new news about you being a princess and Irma having filled me in all about it in study hall! And then. . . the 'message' that I just got from Taranee. . . I didn't have enough time to 'hose' myself down before showing up! Gee! That looks really expensive! And _you_ look really _beautiful!_ I mean, you _always_ are, but I mean -- Ohhh, _you_ know what I mean! I'll pay for it, I promise!"

Even though I now resembled her twin, I could only giggle softly at how flustered the babbling Air Guardian now was before me.

"Uhh. . . yeah, it probably_ is_ pretty expensive, Hay Lin . . but I wouldn't worry about it too much. With my uncle being ostensibly 'loaded,' at the risk of sounded crude, I don't think it will matter," I tried to reassure the saffron hued beauty still blushing profusely before me. "The only thing that _will_ suck is having to leave here looking like this. You know, the whole bulbs flashing, and cameras rolling thing I now have to live with. . . But I guess I can just put on my jacket to cover it up just fine."

Hay Lin slapped a hand to her forehead at this, leaving a rather large, smeared painted hand print in the process. There was now virtually _no_ part of her that _wasn't_ currently covered in paint.

"That's _right!_ I just made it _worse_ for you, didn't I? Well, maybe we can find you something _new_ to wear, Your Majesty. Oh, no. Not yet. Your _Highness_, right? This is all just so _cool!_ Now I have _two_ best friends who are of royal blood!" Hay Lin giggled, this time curtsying.

I blushed, groaning lightly.

"No, no. Just 'Will.' I'm going to have to keep repeating this over and over, aren't I? I can tell. I am, yes?" I asked with a growing smile, already knowing the answer.

Regardless, Hay Lin shook her head energetically just as Taranee and Hay Lin's boyfriend, Eric, could be seen approaching in the distance from behind her.

"Mmm. . . nope! No. I don't think that I _can_ just refer to you as 'just Will' anymore. I think that I will be as respectful as _possible_ to my princess!" she teased with a wink. "But, seriously, though! This is _fantastic!_ Irma wants you to be a guest on her _KHETH_ radio show, she said, and it'd be so _boss_ if _I_ could be the first to do one of your _many_ royal portraits, I'm sure! I mean, yeah! But I'm honestly curious about what this will mean for -- You know, our 'combined future current occupations' -- and --"

"-- Hey, hey, _hey!_ Congratulations, _M'Lady!_ The kingdom of Marsily is very lucky to welcome you into its Royal Family," Eric complimented with a cheerful smile as he unintentionally interrupted his equally cheerful girlfriend, wrapping his arms around her waist (which didn't hinder _him_ in anyway, because he was wearing a smock, since he too is in the same club as Hay Lin, although mainly for her benefit, they'd explained to us once. But he's still pretty creative, himself, regardless). "Aren't you _excited?_ This country has impeccable taste in art and music. It's _ironic_ too, because just the other day, me and Hay-Hay were just talking about how great it would be to visit there one day. But, _hey!_ This is really _great_ though. I'm happy for you, Princess Will. I'm sure _you_ must be too -- Or at the very least happy to meet your cousins."

_What??_

_What_ did Eric just say??

Cousins?? _What_ cousins??

I must have looked as though I'd just swallowed a _clove_ or something, because Taranee, who'd taken her place next to Eric, asked in concern, "W-Will? Are you all right? What's the matter?"

"Y-yeah. Did I say something wrong? I mean, I'm just _assuming_ that you never knew that you were a princess all this time, and so _also_ never met your royal cousins, the three _other_ princesses of Marsily. . ." Eric spoke delicately, looking just as worried as both Taranee and now Hay Lin were.

I wanted to scream (and I almost did) upon hearing this.

I couldn't believe it! _All_ this time Eli has been here within the states, and never _once_ did he bother to mention the little tidbit of having not only _one_ child at all, but _three??_

And _moreover_, three _princesses_ who can rule in _my stead_, too!!

What a secretive, crafty, lying and freaking _bastard!!_

The _next_ thing that I knew what I was doing, I immediately turned on my heel and ran down the hall in the other direction, leaving the others to feel extremely confused and a bit rejected, I'm sure, while Ernest and Nova swiftly followed.

Now here I am, in the limo, on my way to the Plaza and feeling _supremely_ pissed off and misled.

Hey, Eli. Guess, _what?_ Say goodbye to your mission to strategically ruin my life.

Because _I'm_ now on a mission to tear _you_ limb from _limb!!_

**-- End of Chapter Thirty Three  
**

* * *

**(A.N. YES!! DONE!!! PRAISE JEEBUS!! Twenty-two pages!!! So much to say. Phew. LoL You'd all BETTER leave a review, I don't care HOW long it was for you or how tired you were making it through. LoL I slaved over a hot computer for you to do it, which wasn't easy because I only had a billion interruptions in the last few weeks that prevented me from completing it straight through. But yeah. That was fun reliving my senior schedule – for the most part, since I also had music included, and Will obviously doesn't do music – and writing about my teachers. I used to hate it whenever Lenzer would be all "Better late than never, but better never late" to us when were. Whatever. And I hated freaking alternating days, or "ABCD" days, which is what Will meant when she wrote "B Day." Y'know, like all of the A and C days would be on Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays of one week, which in Will's case, means she has gym class three days that week. Just, yeah. Hated them. LoL Oh. And while I'm not really following either the comic or animated version to the series and generally steer clear from incorporating Blunk into any of my stories – because he kind of annoys me LoL – I'd thought it'd be fun to put him in briefly. Or the mention of him, anyway. And also thought I'd be "cute" and be ironic with his wife – whom I'd completely made up, yes – and call her Burcu, since it means "sweet smelling," which most of us instantly think of things like roses or baby powder or w/e, rather than the garbage or vomit or something that Blunk would think of in contrast. LoL Then again, that's probably what he thinks of ANYWAY when near his "blushing bride." LoL But yeah! There you go! Will's first official day as princess while at school, with more interaction b/w Caleb and herself for all you Caleb/Will lovers. I had more to say, but I can't think of it now. Just leave lots of pretty reviews, please. LoL)**


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer:**I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note:_Ahh! Yay! You all liked the previous chapter!! 16 reviews!! Yay:Dances: I rock. I know it. LoL No, not really. But I AM grateful for the attention, believe it. Thanks for all of the reviews thus far, the 16,130 hits for this entire story (which even managed to beat out my "Harry Potter and the Collided Worlds" story, which has 15,118 hits so far) and even the compliments that ran along the lines of calling the previous chapter "brilliant" and "absolutely addicting." So then I guess all of the effort and "sacrifice"__had__ been worth it. Oh, and to answer someone's question, yes, as I'd said, a lot of the things Will has gone through (or will), negating the finding out that she's a princess and knowing billionaire Eddie (even though he's technically my cousin. . . so I guess I do know him LoL) is all me and my life when I was around her age. (Not boasting or anything. Just saying so one final time so it won't be asked over yet again.) So yes, her teachers and their 'tudes and which ones do/do not like her as well as how she feels about each and all that is all real/me. (Just hope that none of them ever read this story and remember me, or else I'll never hear the end of it. LoL "So THAT'S how you thought of me while in high school??" Yes. Yes it was. LoL Only one I wouldn't mind reading this is Ms. Darcy Wojcik -- whom I know I spell her name as Daisy Wojick in this story instead. Now __she__ was really awesome as a teacher in 10__th__ grade and exactly how I write her in the story, and just one I'd always appreciated having so much faith and expectation within my growth as a student, overall person and writer. So thanks again, Ms. Wojcik, if you ever read this!)_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in September 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty Four**

**Tuesday Evening, 11:46 pm,**

"**My Bedroom" Inside of the Presidential Suite of the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel **

I am feeling so very defeated at the moment. This isn't a permanent notion, mind you. However, it's just how I currently feel, that's all.

And with good reason.

I still can't believe that Eli never once had it within himself to let me know that he has three daughters -- That I have _cousins_. It would have been nice to have known this from the get, you know? And not because I can (and _will_ try to) use one (or _all_, I'm not picky) of them to take my place as Marsily's next queen. But because, with all feelings of animosity towards their father aside and the drama of it all, it's pretty cool.

I mean, being an only child, it can get pretty lonely and tedious to do things alone and such.

Yeah, there's the girls and my mom to fill that "lonely time" on occasion. But my mother's a bit too old to be able to truly relate to_ everything_ I might wish to discuss, and the _girls_ obviously have their _own_ lives to tend to for the most part.

So, it would have been pretty cool to be able to also rely upon the extra members of my family to express my woes and worries to, or to just have a plain old good time with.

And at least now, though, I actually _can_.

Well, assuming that my newfound relatives all like me and _want_ to acknowledge me as family at _all_, anyway.

But I digress.

Must discuss my confrontation with His Majesty, the Royal Liar.

Eli had been within the study (that I hadn't ventured into before now, although I probably should more often because it'd most likely help me concentrate upon my homework more astutely, since it doesn't have a cushy bed to lie down upon), seated behind an impressive Mahogany desk. He seemed to have been within a phone conference with some _other_ prestigious individual for however long, I don't know, when I'd burst in with Ernest and Nova meekly following behind.

Needless to say, the King was understandably surprised to see me. (And I only say "understandably" because he'd obviously been expecting me around an hour later.)

Nonetheless, he simply continued on within his telephone conversation before completely addressing me.

"Ah! Ne! Eh. . . Seegnomee, Prime Minister Kyriaki. . . Ne. . . Ne. . . Efkhareesto! Kaleeneekhta, Prime Minister Kyriaki," Eli lightheartedly said as he concluded his conference, putting down the black, elegant styled receiver before locking eyes with mine.

Even though I'm quite sure that he could see the blatant, livid nature I had carried with me into the study (especially since I was also breathing heavily), Eli just smiled gently at me.

"I. . . take it that you were feeling quite eager to begin your next lesson, Princess Wilhelmina," he commented, slowly rising from his grand leather seat. "That is good. Punctuality is key. And with perfect timing, as well, as I was just finishing a telephone conference with the prime minister of Greece, a country with whom we do frequent business transactions, I might add. So keep that in mind, as you continue on in your journey as princess."

"'Journey as princess.' Hmm. . . That sounds pretty interesting. Too bad I won't be _continuing_ this reject journey anymore!" I nearly exploded at the man standing before me, throwing down my books and promptly taking off my jacket.

It wasn't because of my sudden outburst that had made _him_ sharply gasp and then cry out in utter alarm (which was a bit humorous to have witnessed, admittedly).

I'm pretty sure that, by now, Eli is used to such acts. (He'd _better_ be, because nothing _but_ attitude is what he'll ever get from me.)

No, no.

It was because of my _multicolored sweater_, having been solely _white_ in color once upon a time that had caused the Marsilian king to nearly screech like a _schoolgirl_ to have gazed upon.

"_Zut_ alors! Qu'est-ce que _c'est??_" he started to swiftly spout in fluent French, waving his open palm towards me while I struggled to understand what he was saying and Ernest and Nova smartly bowed and dismissed themselves from the room. "Ohh, mon _Dieu!_ Tu veux que je deviennen _folle!! _C'est _vrai!!_"

I could only stand there, watching him, unsure of whether or not I should grow more upset than I was already, or laugh at his asinine display while he carried on within his verbally foreign tirade. I'm obviously going to need both a Greek _and_ French tutor in the future, because I could only recognize that "je" meant "I," and "tu" meant "you" in French. And I didn't understand a _single_ word Eli had spoken in Greek just minutes before.

My _mother_, however, seemed to have been able to understand what was being said, because she suddenly appears behind me in the doorway and cries out at her brother, "_What_ is going _on_ in here? _Will!_ Honey, why are you covered in _paint?_ Did someone _attack_ you? Did your teacher let you out of detention early? And why are _you_ accusing my daughter of driving you _crazy?_ Seems like you're doing a _superb_ job of that on your _own_, Eli!"

Ohhh. So _that's_ what he was saying. Totally ridiculous.

And Mom's right. He_ is_ taking care of that all on his own.

Eli didn't seem to agree with her, however, because as soon as he laid eyes upon her he exhales gruffly before remarking, "Oh_ ho!_ Of _course!_ I do not expect you to see the _public damage_ this could do or has _already_ done to '_your_ daughter!' _Or _the fact that these clothes were _not_ purchased at some _thrift_ store, thank you _kindly!_"

I could sense yet another sibling-type brawl growing on the horizon between the two, and so I'd taken it upon myself to appropriately intervene. . . by whistling quite loudly (which I'm once again confident that Eli did not appreciate, since this act was _also_ most likely viewed as "ill-mannered" or whatever).

"Hey!!_Cool_ it, please! Mom, I'm all right, and yes, Ms. Wojick let me out of detention early -- Well, she'd canceled it altogether, actually," I began to explain, raising both of my arms up into the air. "And I'm like this because of Hay Lin and her art club project. Just got too excited to see me, hugged me without thinking and this is the end result. And as for the '_public damage_,' Eli, I'd_ thought _of that, thanks, when I'd put on my _jacket_ before leaving the school building!"

After hearing this clarification, both Eli and Mom's bodies seemed to relax a little bit, although their faces remained scrunched up in tensity.

"W-well. . . all right, then. I suppose things like this just happen. We'll just. . . see if we can't get this dry cleaned so that your uncle will no longer be upset, okay?" Mom gently suggested, placing a hand upon my shoulder. "I was in one of the kitchens just now, and was about to make you something to eat to keep within the refrigerator until you'd come. . . _home_ at four. Want to come keep me company?"

I admittedly appreciated the offer, since I _was_ kind of hungry and thought that it would have been nice to get away from Eli at that moment.

But food as well as a reprieve would just have to wait.

I still had my mission to complete.

"Uh. . . maybe later, Mom, because right now I'd like my dear, _sweet_ uncle to explain to me why he never bothered to pass mention to his _three daughters!!_"

There. I'd dropped the bomb, and had successfully blown this infernal man completely out of the water.

Sucks that he didn't seem too guilt-ridden or, at the _very_ least, surprised, though. Just slowly raised a bejeweled hand to his face and softly sighed. _Mom_, on the other hand, was _definitely_ taken aback and _then_ some, as her dark blue eyes nearly bulged clear out of their sockets at the same time she'd sharply sucked in her breath.

"_What?_ How could you not _tell _me that you have _children_, Elisud? Or, moreover, that _I_ have _nieces _whom I've never known??" Mom asked in outrage, moving forward from her place next to me in confrontation.

"'God has given you _one_ face, and you make yourself _another_,' sister," Eli countered without missing a beat, both his and Mom's selfsame eyes meeting within silent argument.

_Mom_ may have understood what the hell her brother had just said yet again (since, after staring him down for a few more seconds, her face softened a bit before she looked away), but _I_ sure didn't.

"Who _cares_, okay?? Just _answer_ Mom's question! Why _didn't_ you say anything?" I asked heatedly, growing more and more intolerant.

Eli (_finally_) looked surprised.

"Oh? You are actually bothered by this? Is it because you wish to bond with your relatives as soon as possible?"

I scoffed, a bit _too_ grandly, at this (despite the fact that a tiny smidgen of me _had_ related to some truth within his claim).

"_Tch!_ That's _not_ what I meant! I want to know why you've put me through this nightmare in the _first_ place, when you have _three_ -- not just _one_, but _three_ other royal chicks to take my place as next in line to the Marsilian throne!!"

". . .I see," Eli said delicately, as though not having expected to hear this. "Well, to be truthful --"

"-- Which would be a _first_," I tactfully interrupted, folding my arms across my painted chest. (I swear. My entire family, myself included, regrettably, should totally open up some sort of business chain that will teach people how to flawlessly lie on a regular basis. We'd have it _made_, sadly.)

"As I was saying. . . Although they are, of course, frequently featured within the media as I too am -- and _have_ been especially now that your identity has been released -- I had taken a good stake amount of confidence within the knowledge that neither you _nor_ your mother would have learned of my daughters' existence until I'd_ wanted_ you to," Eli revealed with an unfaltering air, shifting his gaze away from Mom, onto me and then back again.

I didn't say anything, and neither did my mother. I suppose it was because we were both fully aware of the legitimacy of his words.

After a few moments of letting everything sink in had passed, I cleared my throat and tried to say, as calmly as I could, "So. . . what? You_ admit_ to being sneaky, then. You _knew_ that I wouldn't have gone along with _any_ of this if I was ever aware of -- What are their names, anyway?"

"Firstly, I _will_ admit to a bit of. . . 'creative thinking' on my part. However I'd only _done_ so, not to hurt _nor_ mislead you, but to ensure that you would have given being a princess _and_ our law a respectable chance. Because the fact of the matter is, _you_, Wilhelmina, are _still_ the legitimate heir to the throne. So it wouldn't _matter_ whether or not I had children," he said a bit callously. He seemed to have realized this, because he swiftly cleared his throat after blinking for a few moments. "Anyhow, your cousins' names are Princess Mara, Princess Étaín, and Princess Roice."

When I didn't say anything (because I was interested to hear more), Eli seemed to take the hint and added, "And I _will_ tell you all that you wish to know of them, but _after_ you have cleaned up and have completed your lesson."

I'd definitely objected to this, because in light of these recent turn of events, I didn't feel I ever needed to learn another princess lesson ever again. Well, no. I'd _started_ to object to this, before my brain kicked in and recalled that, even _if_ I reject the throne (which again, I plan to, more than _ever_ now, believe me), the media will _still_ be on my tail to know _why_ and other general matters just because I'm _still_ a princess, regardless.

And since I was aware of today's lesson topic and that it dealt with how to handle the paparazzi and _other_ social pariah, I merely gave a loud scoff and muttered a quick "Fine" before turning to leave the study.

Mom, meanwhile, seemed pretty surprised at how well I was suddenly taking things and how submissive I was, and hesitated to take her leave, as well. When I'd noticed this and then asked her what was the matter, she said that she was admittedly too upset to be able to concentrate on the upcoming royal lesson, and would just have to read the details from my Royal Time Log later on.

And _then_ that's when she'd at last turned and left to go back towards the direction of the kitchens. Most likely to cook or, even_ more_ likely, to bake, as she tends to do that when she's_ really_ mad.

This is what irked me even further, myself.

Because how come _she_ gets to be exempt from the lesson and I _can't_ be? She was supposed to join me so she could get her refresher course on how to be more media savvy, remember??

_Hello??_

_So_ not fair.

Fine. I'll let it slide. . .

So, after my shower and change of clothes (that had been apparently picked and laid out for me on my bed, either by Eli or some unseen maid or whomever, I don't know. Just do know that they also weren't bad looking. But, again. Don't say anything to Eli about that), I went out to my stupid second lesson.

Here we go (with aftereffect commentary yet again):

_**Tuesday, November 7th **_

_**Princess Wilhelmina's Royal Lesson II**_

_Primary Lesson Agenda: Effective Media Navigation_

_4 pm. - 6 pm._

_Media Prowess with Emin Evgar _

And I have to be tested on _this_, too. (At least Eli was "nice" enough to postpone my official test on my premiere lesson for the _end_ of the week. He said he hadn't planned on waiting so long to quiz me, but given that everything has just been so chaotic lately he thought it best to give me a bit more time to "adjust and prepare." How "generous.")

_Two hours_ of hearing and learning nothing but how to either get the media on my side, keep them smartly at bay, or basically piss them off by being verbally evasive. And it's all thanks to Mr. Emin Evgar, who is apparently an accomplished journalist and frequently does reports on the kingdom of Marsily as one of his many other endeavors.

Al l_I_ can say is, Emin must do a really great job of it, since he seems well liked by Eli and trusted enough to be the one to come to the Plaza to _personally_ help me be better armed against other fellow reporters. I mean, he _is_ technically the enemy, after all.

But, no. Wait. There was a catch, as well. (When is there not?) Well, not _really_ a catch, but more like a "reward," as Eli had put it to me later during dinner, for Emin's assistance and having signed confidentiality agreement documents, Emin was promised exclusive rights to one of the first official interviews I will give as princess.

Gee, thanks so much for having agreed to that _for_ me, before having _consulted_ me _or_ my mother. But, hell. What _else_ is honestly new?

Still.

As terrifying as the prospect of having to go on television or whatever in the near future to do said interview, at least it's with someone _kind_ of nice.

Emin, I mean. He wasn't too overbearing while instructing me, was patient and even threw in a few jokes here and there. He _also_ wasn't that bad on the eyes, either, with his six foot-plus, muscular stature, kind and soft green eyes, tanned skin, and short, _very_ fetching brown hair. For a dude that's probably like, thirty-something, he certainly doesn't _look_ it.

He_ also_ kind of looks like an older _Caleb_. . . but that's neither here nor there.

Moving on.

Since the lesson was two hours long, and crammed with so much information, I will have to skimp out on giving every single detail to what Emin or I had said to one another (or what _Eli_ might have said, if he wasn't silently watching in the corner while sipping his tea -- But who cares about what _he_ had to say?) to have enough time to copy what had been written within my Royal Time Log.

Hey. I _do_ still have homework to complete, after all:

_Media and Press Management: What to Know, What to Do, and How to Do It_

**DEALING WITH THE PRESS**

**§**** Know With Whom You Are Dealing ****§**

When handling with the press and other forms of media, it is crucial to realize as well as understand that the outcome will not necessarily be what might have been intended. It is not conceivable nor possible to _control_ the press, and trying to do so usually only results in further calamity. Therefore, it is far better to try to think in terms of merely _managing_ it.

If contacted or confronted by a reporter, it is expected of said reporter to properly identify his or herself and also of the organization that he or she happens to represent. This act is important, because as the one being potentially interviewed, you want to be sure to have a clear and concise understanding of which media you are dealing with. (I.E. Newspaper, television.)

While being interviewed, be sure to provide responses that the reporter will be able to understand. For instance, a frequent reporter of the stock market, perhaps, will most likely have a better understanding of similar business issues more so than a fashion and entertainment reporter might. With that being said, be sure to appropriately tailor your responses. (Another thing to be aware of is the consideration of whom will be the ultimate audience of your completed interview.)

**§ Building the Relationship §**

The relationship you build with reporters is very important, as it is the basis of your interaction with the media. It is rather symbiotic, indeed, as the information you do or do not provide to them will help your productive, presentable image to flourish, as it does their lucrative employment.

However, these relationships take much time to effectively develop, and said time should be viewed as a long-term investment.

If you, as princess, are for example heading a newfound charity foundation that has not yet established a relationship with the local press, it would be wise to read the local publications in order to acquire the names of the reporters who would cover your specific topic. Be sure to also check out the online version of thepublication to search for articles by the same reporters to review the competency of the topic.

Another good tactic that helps the relationship grow between you and the reporter is to take note of any particular articles that might be intriguing to you. After which, be sure to contact the appropriate reporter and perhaps offer to buy him or her a cup of coffee so that you may properly introduce yourself before mentioning how you enjoyed the specific article that you had found so interesting. There is generally no risk involved when and if you do this, as often your offer will be accepted, due to the fact that good journalists are constantly on the lookout for fresh news -- They_ are_ more approachable than most believe.

Regardless, it is not good form to assume that an eventual article will result by this act. The main, true purpose of the meeting between you and the reporter is merely to begin the process of building the relationship for when and if there may be future news.

**§ Declining to Comment §**

In some cases, and especially as princess, you may not wish to have any press coverage. However, in the interest of maintaining a good, sound relationship, keep in mind that reporters do still expect you to answer their calls. They do not like to be ignored. Always be mindful that, if for any reason you do not wish to be interviewed, refusing to talk to them may result in a future report that cites you having refused to take their calls.

Also, taking the call but still providing no comments may then result in a report that you had 'declined to comment.' So therefore, think about whether declining to comment might be perceived negatively by the public in the particular situation. It is not always wise to refuse or to say 'no comment,' as this will give someone else the opportunity to comment instead and allow _them_ to define the issue. It is better that you, yourself make the comment, so in that way _you_ will be able to better define the issue instead.

Still, if you must decline and have a satisfactory relationship with the reporter, you may wish to consider informing him or her that you are unable to talk about the issue at that present time, but will suggest getting together within a few days to a few weeks time to tell all about it then.

In any case, the reporter _still_ holds the right to say that you declined to comment.

_(Now, I know I said I wasn't going to make a comment on every single thing Emin had taught me, but this part really upset me. . . and not to mention also completely tripped up my mind. Because I mean, this is basically saying that I'm always going to have to respond to the damned media, even if the topic is tremendously embarrassing and I wish to forget all about it for all eternity. Like the H.B.F., for instance, you know? So not fair, I'm telling you. Curse you, vile media.)_

**§ Terms of Engagement §**

Before deciding to talk to the reporter, be sure to have an astute understanding of the rules of engagement. Also understand that a reporter's main objective within his or her profession is to find out as much as possible. You should view talking to a reporter as though speaking directly to the public. You should also always understand the context in which you are being interviewed:

● **On-the-record:** So long as the reporter actually identifies him or herself as a reporter (I.E. Tim Gray from _The New York Age_), then the assumption is that everything said and discussed will be "on the record." This means that your name and everything that you say can be reported.

● **Off-the-record:** In some cases, the interview or at least part of it may be "off-the-record." This meaning is less precise, and so therefore should not be assumed that you might have the same understanding of it as the reporter. At times, off-the-record might mean that your name will not be disclosed, while in other times it might mean that you will not be quoted. It is a strong idea toclarify what 'off-the-record' means if there is any doubt. When and if you provide information that is not to be quoted, the reporter should then put down any writing instruments and/or turn off any tape recorder. This action serves as a signal that the reporter acknowledges the off-record status of the comment, in addition to reducing the chance that an off-the-record comment will be published accidentally.

● **Background information:** "For background only" refers to the information that you provide is simply to educate the reporter.Be sure to clarify with the reporter to what extent the source will be revealed. (I.E. Rather than using your name, the reporter may attribute the information to "a charity foundation executive.")

Also, you may wish to tape the interview if it will cover some sensitive topics. Do get the consent of the reporter before doing so, however. If you are concerned about being misquoted, you can ask the reporter to read back any quotes before they are published. In most cases, he or she will do so if you ask and if he or she has the time. However, do not expect the reporter to show you the completed story before it is run -- Some sources would want to edit everything if they viewed it before publication, and so in the interest of professionalism, most reporters will not show the story beforehand.

Misquotes may also be a concern, but that is a risk that you _will_ take when and if you agree to being interviewed. You can try to manage the process in order to minimize errors and also to capture whatever it is you might be representing within the best light, but do not attempt to control the process. Reporters generally like to feel independent and do not like to be pushed or manipulated.

There are times too when what is eventually published might have been taken out of context. You should be very conscientious of everything you say as well as _realize_ that it could very well be taken out of context. Be especially careful about making a joke, for it may become the headline. If a mistake _is_ made, however, you can ask for a timely publication of a correction, but by this time most of the damage already would have been done.

If you feel that there is a serious error, it might be a good idea to set up a meeting with the reporter and editor to discuss it further.

**§ Newspapers § **

Newspapers tend to be reporter-driven organizations. On occasion, editors will suggest a story, however most ideas come from the reporters. Therefore, your prominent relationships will be with the reporters who cover stories related to your topic. If a reporter thinks that something might be newsworthy, he or she will convince the editor to let him or her cover it.

**§****Contacting the Press** **§**

When contacting the press with a specific news item, do be aware of the deadlines (which may arrive sooner than you anticipate). Make sure that the names of the people as well as their titles are up-to-date, in addition. In the event that you might contact a former reporter who now is performing some other job function, your message may be ignored, so be mindful of keeping up-to-date references.

_(So, the moral of the story to all of this is, take up residency underneath a rock and never reemerge again.)_

_6 pm. - 6:15 pm._

_Fifteen Minute Recess_

Lousy fifteen minutes. But it was better than nothing, because my mind was beginning to turn into a very much bowl of Tapioca Pudding. And I was growing hungry all over again, even though the lemon water that had been set out for me and Emin while he continued to instruct me helped to slightly fill up my stomach.

But then again, it'd also helped to fill up my _bladder_.

So, the first thing I did once Eli announced that we would all adjourn for the fifteen minutes was rush to the closest bathroom.

Afterwards, since my stomach was starting to rumble and my head was lightly throbbing from mixed fatigue and information overload, I ventured towards one of the kitchens. But the distinct smell of chocolate chip cookies was beckoning me towards the opposite direction of where I was headed (in spite of the _other_ delectable scents of roasted chicken and other meats wafting into the air from the first kitchen ahead of me).

So, mouth watering, I went towards the second kitchen, and found my mother, hovered over one of the two sinks and surrounded by mountains of various baked goods.

"_Someone_ must be pretty pissed off," I said with faint sarcasm, entering the kitchen and closing the door behind me. Mom swiftly turned around and gasped with a start at this, before immediately swirling back around and using the peach colored apron tied around her waist for her face.

I instantly felt a bit bad for having taken my teasing sort of tone with her then, since I had been able to catch sight of her eyes and saw that they were once again bloodshot. Clearly, she had been crying_yet_ again, and was now using the apron to wipe away the evidence before I could see.

If it were a contest to see which one of us could cry more, I think that my _mom_ might win, because lately that's all I ever see her do -- Well, the _aftermath_, anyway, if she's not upset with Eli and arguing with him or trying her best to appease me.

And she's not even the one who has the most pressure between the two of us as princesses, either.

If she keeps this up, though, she'll tempt me even _further_ to drop my grudge against her and try to comfort whatever her problem is.

Anyway, I just decided to pretend that I hadn't taken notice of her teary eyes (even though they _were_ still pretty red, regardless) as I walked over to the nearest counter to take a seat and a cookie off of the plate closest to me.

"O-oh! W-_Will!_ Sweetheart! Done with your lesson already? How was it?" Mom asked as casually and unaffected as she could manage, forcing a weak, shaky smile upon her tawny face while looking at me.

"_Pfft!_ I _wish_ I were finished with my lesson," I said with a scoff after taking a generous bite of the still warm, moist treat, succeeding in causing several bits of it to fly out of my mouth in the process. "No. Your _magnanimous_ brother only gave me fifteen minutes of downtime before I have get back to continue it or whatever. But at least that Emin guy seems to know what he's talking about with teaching 'Press Dealing 101.'"

Mom's barely visible smile grew a bit more at this, which honestly did make me feel a bit better to have seen. (I'm guessing that our reconciliation is fast approaching at this rate.)

"Oh, is that right? Well, then remind me to thank this. . . Emin fellow for his assistance in preparing my daughter for properly defending herself against parasitic paparazzi in the near future," she remarked, moving over to the rather large, fancy looking fridge. "Oh. Sorry. . . Sensitive subject, I know. I was just never all that fond of the media, _myself_, when _I_. . . well, _you_ know."

I tried my best to hold in the heavy exhale that was rapidly rising within my chest and yearning to escape my lips upon hearing this, because I knew it'd most likely only make my mother feel worse than she obviously did already.

Annoyed with her still, yes I am.

But all of this current drama and such isn't really _her_ fault, you know? _Sure_, she'd birthed me, brought me into this "destiny" as princess and never _once_ bothered to tell me about that for seventeen years. And even _if_ (or _when_, rather, I guess I might as well admit) I manage to make up with her about that, I_ still_ won't ever forget it or entirely _forgive_ her for it.

However, the one thing I _do_ know for sure is that she and I share the wretchedness her brother bestows upon us religiously in common. And his having grown up to become some power-hungry _psycho_ also isn't her fault.

So. . . what I _guess_ I'm trying to say here is. . . I will make a _conscious_ effort to save the majority of my future choler _just_ for Eli alone, and _not_ direct it at Mom anymore.

_There!_ Happy, now, you blasted softhearted emotions of mine?? That's the most you will get out of me for now, because I'm just not completely ready to cuddle up with her and be all "Mommy-Daughter"-ish again just yet.

Hey, what can I say? Misery loves company. (Yeah, I know. I _can_ be very bad when I choose to be. . . _and_ also pretty _confusing_ and _contradicting_, too, as I look over what I'd just written. Hmm. . . Oh, well! It's late, and I'm sleepy. Deal with it.)

Anyhow, back to the kitchen, cookies, and my melancholy mother.

I lightly bit down onto my tongue to help squelch the sigh that I was about to emit at that moment, just as Mom had closed the refrigerator door with a large pitcher of milk in hand.

"Uh. . . right. Well, I suppose you'll have to suck it up like me and just deal, since you _are_ and _will_ be back within the spotlight for some time now," I said with a lazy wave of my half eaten cookie, saying a quick "thank you" after my mom had poured me a tall glass of the liquid dairy product for me. "But at least you can read up on the notes that's being written within my time log thingie to brush up on your former know-how."

Mom didn't say anything for a while after this. At first I thought it was because she might have been growing more and more upset and I'd offended her in some way. But then, once her body and facial features began to relax tremendously, I'd swiftly dismissed the notion.

She smiled warmly, continuing to gaze upon me while I ate the rest of my cookie and stared back at her expectantly, before moving over to me to place a tender kiss atop my head.

Now _this_, I hadn't been expecting, and nearly choked upon the last of my treat as a result.

"W-what? What'd I_ do??_" I asked stupidly, looking up at her with a perplexed expression upon my face as she backed away a bit.

"Nothing, silly. I'm just. . . just really happy to have you in my life, that's all," Mom replied wholeheartedly, the simper upon her face growing stronger.

I raised an eyebrow at this.

"Uhhh. . . eeeyeah. _Only_ for seventeen years now, Mom," I said sarcastically, although managing to make a faint smile accompany it.

"Well, of _course!_ What I _mean_ is, I'm just _blessed_ to have such a strong willed young woman for my daughter," my mother continued, renewed tears forming within her eyes. "I suppose I never _truly_ realized this before now. . ."

Well, wasn't that nice. I mean, a bit discouraging to find out that it's only _now_ that my mom had completely taken notice of what I am and am not capable of, but still. Kinda nice. Also kinda after school special too, but nice.

Maybe Mom's about to get a visit from her "Aunt Flo" or has already, if you know what I mean.

_Either_ way. . . those fifteen minutes alone in the kitchen with my mother and not having been bothered by anything or any_one_ else for the time being was. . . just like old times, before royal duties, protocol and the stress of it all.

And in those mere fifteen minutes, for the first time in a very _long_ time, I'd honestly felt like. . . "_home_," and that everything was going to be all right. . .

_6:15 pm. - 8:15 pm._

_Effective Public Communication Mastery with Min Wen_

Now _this_ part of the lesson I wasn't _too_ irked about (You know, having to go back to continue my lesson and stuff), but mainly because it gave me some pretty good insight and ideas for my ten minute speech for my Public Speaking class.

I'm thinking that I'm _definitely_ going to give Miss Min Wen a call to help me with it alongside Ryan, for sure.

Every little bit helps, right?

_Profound Verbal and Non-Verbal Communication Skills_

**§ Communication Skills: What Your Body Language Really Says About You §**

It is not always what you _say_ that makes the greatest impression or most difference, but what _you_ yourself exude as an individual. The following guidelines are sure to help effectively transform yourself into a confident, captivating and engaging public speaker:

_(Good, because I'll otherwise need a miracle to manage that, because every single thing listed I either cannot do for long, or do not do at all)_

● Walk in confidently. Your entrance is all an act and your performance starts from the minute you stand up or walk into the room. Grab their attention straight away by giving off an air of confidence.

● Stand up straight. Posture is key.

● Keep your head held high.

● Make eye contact with your audience. Doing so further engages said audience, keeps their attention and makes you appear more convincing.

**- ALSO-**

● **Do not stand or sit with your weight to one side or legs crossed.** Doing so will give the impression of being imbalanced, which can lead to your audience subconsciously thinking that you are unsure of yourself and what you are saying. As a lady of nobility, it is wise, if seated, to drape one leg behind the other. This position exudes grace, elegance and ennoblement.

● **Do not lean into or slightly over the podium or hold your notes tightly.** This can make you appear to be nervous and unconvincing.

● **Do 'visual sweeps.' **This act involves looking all round the room, into the furthest corners and to the front row and back again. Catching people's eyes for a few seconds will keep them interested and listening.

● **Do emphasis your point and use tone and gestures. **This will help captivate your audience and convince them that you as speaker know what you are talking about. (**Helpful Trick**: If you want the audience to agree with whatever it is you are speaking about, open your arms in an expansive gesture. This act grants an inviting ambiance about you. Also, a downward gesture, such as tapping the podium or downward shake of a loosely closed palmwill reinforce the point you wish to get across.)

● **Do vary the speed and rhythm of your voice. **A monotonous voice will bore the audience and thus swiftly lose their attention. So allow your voice to rise and fall naturally during the delivery and try to inject enthusiasm and emotion into your voice to convey the point.

● **Do keep the delivery of your speech strong and captivating all the way to the end.** Keep your voice slow and strong! Don't be tempted to speed up as you approach the end of your speech.

● **Do finish your speech with a hand outstretched 'over to you' gesture and a smile. **This indicates to your audience that you've finished speaking and that you expect a positive response from your audience.

My God, am I _ever_ going to need to work overtime with all of this! I mean, what part of this equation don't you people _get?_

Will Vandom + Talking in Public to Millions of People equals VERY BAD.

Have you _seen_ me do my speeches at school? I _never_ emphasize my point. I _never_ vary the speed and rhythm of my voice. And I most _definitely_ never make eye contact with _anyone_ in my class!

Here's _my_ list of "do's and don't's:"

● Don't vary the speed and rhythm of your voice. Just babble your ass off until you've made it to the very end of your speech.

● Don't make eye contact. Doing so will only increase the _nausea_ you already feel to be up there in the _first_ place, and make you run the risk of hurling your cookies all over the podium and anyone with the misfortune to be sitting within the front row.

● Never take _any_ Public Speaking course for as long as you'll live. This will make your life a _whole_ lot easier.

I think it's safe to say that _my_ list wins, hands down, don't you agree?

_8:15 pm. - 9:15 pm._

_Supper with King Elisud and Honored Guests, Emin Evgar and Min Wen_

That word bothers me, now that I think about it. "Supper," I mean. It just sounds so goofy and. . . _old_.

Like _Eli_.

So I guess it fits, then.

I remember asking my mother the difference once when I was younger, and she said something about how "dinner" is considered to be when you eat between three to six o'clock in the afternoon. (You know, when old people do, no disrespect.) And then "supper" is when you eat between six to nine o'clock in the evening.

Either way, it's stupid to me. Who _cares_ what you call it? You're eating regardless, right? And I doubt it'd _offend_ anyone to call a meal you ate at eight o'clock "dinner" instead. Then again, it most definitely _would_ offend stupid Eli and every_ other_ royal guest he'd invite and I was present to say so.

Whatever.

Why was I talking about this? Must be because my mind is deteriorating. That is, I've absolutely hit the wall and dead on my feet right now, even though I'm lying down on "my" bed as I write this. And I_ still_ have yet to complete my homework, and it's nearly midnight.

We can certainly rule out a full night's sleep _yet_ again tonight then, huh?

But back to "supper time."

The meal, yet again, was fantastic, and with the added spice that was my hunger I was practically scarfing it down, regardless of the fact that this time around there were more people present (like my mom, Emin and Min) or the unimpressed looks Eli kept giving me from across the table.

"Ah. . . ahem! I daresay that Princess Wilhelmina is rather. . . _famished!_ Wouldn't _you_ say so, Princess?" he asked with a forced smile, trying to hide his flustered nature while Emim and Min both gave polite, genuine smiles of their own in acknowledgment.

I didn't bother to answer. Didn't have to, thankfully, since Emim, such a cutie, cleared his throat and said, "Well, if _I_ may say so, Your Majesty, I _myself_ have been rather prone to 'lose it,' if you will, on days when I have worked so hard and finally have eaten a home-cooked meal."

Thank you, Sir Handsome Emim. I shall knight thee my official _Eye candy_ once I am queen.

_9:15 pm. – 10 pm._

_Dessert and Coffee with King Elisud and Honored Guests Emin Evgar and Min Wen_

Guess who got to sit next to Mr. Evgar? Yep. Admittedly the highlight of my vigorous evening. Even found myself a bit shamelessly giggling at some of the things he'd say, too. _Screw_ it if it wasn't "princess-like" of me to do, but the guy really _is_ handsome.

I mean, I _could_ just really be attracted to him because he really _does_ look like an older Caleb, but I'm _also_ almost eighteen.

Hint, hint.

Yeah, right. Even _if_ I were really serious about that, like Mom would ever let me date a man who's around fifteen years or so my senior. Or _Eli_, for that matter, even though he's not my father.

They'd _both_ have aneurysms.

And _speaking_ of Mom again, even though when I'd left her earlier today she seemed to be doing better, at neither dinner (Oh, excuse me, _supper_) nor dessert. . . Oooh, wait. Let's talk about dessert, first.

The actual dishes, I mean.

_This_ time they were dishes that were in _further_ honor to our guests. The first was some Baklava, a pastry that's made of layers of this flaky, thin sheet dough which is either filled with chopped walnuts or pistachios before sweetened with syrup or honey.

It wasn't that bad. Was slightly _too_ sweet for my taste, but mainly because my piece seemed to have been _soaked_ within the honey longer than anyone else's or something. I would have _loved_ to have fed it to Emin, though (who said this was one of his most favorite dessert dishes).

Oh, wow. Did I just say that aloud, or written, rather? Insert-_monstrous_-blush-here.

Uh. . . yeah.

And then after that was a small serving of mango ice cream had been brought out, which was even _better_ than the Baklava. Never had this before, either, but I'm glad that I had. Min could seem to tell I hadn't, and said that maybe one day she'll make me some, homemade.

I mean, _this_ one had also been made fresh, but Min said that her mother, before she'd died, had given her a special secret recipe that she would love to share with me.

I'd thought that was really touching and sweet, especially since it was something obviously considered sacred and treasured from a loved one. . .

All right. Back to Mom.

Our kitchen break together didn't seem to comfort her for long, because she was acting like a _zombie_ all throughout dinner _and_ dessert, only briefly smiling or offering quick replies here and there whenever either Emin or Min would politely and respectfully engage her.

I'm sure this less-than-princess-like behavior annoyed Eli to have witnessed, but what can you do? I suppose this is just going to be my mother's newfound personality in regard to everything from now on._Or_, maybe she was just fine, but purposefully acted that way because she _knew_ that it'd bother her brother.

If_ that's_ the case, I'm going to have to say a resounding "rock on" to that.

Alas, this is all up to debate, and is merely my observation and presumption.

_10 pm. - 11 pm._

_Review of second princess lesson_

Same as the first lesson. Went over what I'd learned during this _second_ lesson before Emin and Min were escorted out of the suite by Eli, just as Mom had retired to her bedroom for the remainder of the evening, having cited a migraine as the cause. (Mmhmm.)

When he'd returned, he told me how he hopes that not only has the _first_ lesson sunk in for my and "_our_" kingdom's sake, but _this_ lesson especially, so that it will "spare yourself the embarrassment for saying or _doing_ something you will most _assuredly_ regret at a later date. But we will see whether or not you have retained anything once I have tested you at the next lesson, of course."

This guy is _so_ asking to get slapped.

And then, because I was thinking and fantasizing about doing so, that's when I'd brought up his daughters again. (You know, because I had grown irritated with him all over again and stuff, and the familiar emotional relation had made me remember them.)

"Because I _did_ your _stupid_ lesson as you'd asked and had 'played nice' with my instructors and all that, as was part of the 'deal,'" I reminded him as he was about to leave me for the rest of the night (which I _always_ welcome, of course). "Now, tell me _more_ about your daughters and why I honestly _should_ do another thing more that you say."

At this, I could briefly catch Eli's body tense up, although not really in aggravation. At least, that's not how I'd _perceived_ it, honestly. It was more so as though the topic was a sensitive one.

But I didn't get why, because it was already brought up and spoken about earlier that same day. . . although, now that I think on it, he _had_ seemed a bit tender to the subject during _that_ time, as well.

Whatever.

Regardless, Eli turns around, looks at me with suddenly tired eyes before saying with a small, tight smile, "Wilhelmina, while I am aware of what I had. . . more or less 'promised' you earlier, I _am_ going to have to ask that it wait until the morning -- _Or_, after you've returned from school, rather, perhaps. It is late, and I must retire for the evening for my press conference in the morning to do a bit of. . . 'damage control,' if you will, for my regrettable outburst during your swim meet yesterday. I _am_ sorry for that, I will say. . ."

Whoa.

Did Eli just actually not only admit to being _wrong_, but had taken _responsibility_ for his crazy actions AND apologized for it??

And to ME??

Wow._Now_ I'm scared.

He must have sensed my honest alarm, because next he goes, "Yes. I have apologized. I am certain this comes as some unnecessary _shock_ to you, Wilhelmina. However, I am not an unreasonable man, after all."

_Right_.

"Anyhow, since it is clear to me now that I will be barred from going any further with you in regards to your princess preparations as they were, I will display my compromising, generous nature by striking a_ true_ deal with you."

This peaked my intrigue.

"'True deal?' _What_ deal? And will I even _like_ it? And why are you _avoiding_ the subject of talking about my cousins?" I asked, one question right after the other without much breath or space in between.

"I think that you will at least give it some _thought_, yes, and I am most certainly _not_ avoiding discussing about my dear children -- Your cousins," Eli responded with a tired sigh and air of slight offense to the notion. "There is simply far too _much_ to hammer out in their regard in just _one_ day -- And again, as I'd said, it is too late within the evening to do so. Anyhow, while there _are_ technically _four_ potential princesses altogether who can ascend the throne after I have eventually stepped down, _you_ alone are still recognized by Marsilian law _and_ its citizens as its true future rule as I have already stated --_Numerous_ times, I might add. That cannot be changed. However, being that you so clearly wish to make this entire transition as well as process abundantly difficult for all involved no matter _what_. . . I will offer up this deal: Up until the day of your eighteenth birthday -- January 19th, as it is to my understanding -- you _will_ no longer give me _grief_ over how you do not wish to be Marsily's future queen. You _will_ abide by any and _all_ advisement I bestow upon you, as _well_ as attend every last princess lesson."

I was speechless. Was he actually giving me. . . an _out?_

I didn't have time to think on that, because Eli continued.

"Yes. Of course, it _had_ been my hope that all of this would have been taken care of and you would have fallen into the groove of things, if you will, well before having found out about your cousins -- and then therefore take on the mentality that you currently possess. However, what is done is done. You and I are both _far_ too old for such steady quarrels that regularly manifest between the two of us -- As _well_ as too _noble_, at that. So there it is. My offer."

Pausing a moment to mull everything over, I slowly licked my lips before speaking.

". . .And _then_ what? On and _after_ my birthday. . . I can just _stop_ all of this and tell you that I quit -- which I _am_ going to, by the way? That I'm _not_ going to be the official queen or whatever?" I cautiously asked, for the first time feeling a bit hopeful that this catastrophe would finally end.

Eli didn't seem to share within my growing delight, however, for he simply let out a heavy exhale, his face falling a bit.

". . .This. . . is what I am saying, yes. As I've said, it is evident, and painfully so, that I cannot force you to rule our country, even _if_ the truth of your birthright _is_ apparent to all. But, make no mistake. You are _still_ a princess and so shall you remain until the end of your days. And, once more, now that the entire world knows of your existence, you will not be able to escape the celebrity status that comes with it. . . even _if_ you choose to escape your _destiny_," he trailed off with another, even more hollow sigh, before ushering forth a quick "goodnight" from his lips that was barely audible.

And then he left the room.

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT????

I think I might actually be _free!!_

No more "you _have_ to rule!!"

I totally _knew_ that I wouldn't have to! I _knew_ it!

I mean, my _mom_ hadn't, and _she's_ the first born between she and Eli. And I just knew that _I_ wouldn't have to, either (even though I hadn't been aware of my trio of cousins who could fill in for me during a time when I'd thought that there wasn't anyone to_ do_ so beforehand)!

_Goodbye_ caged prison that is my "duty to the crown" or whatever!

_Hello_ good ol' _freedom!!_

I mean, it still sucks that my life won't _truly_ be normal ever again (negating the lack of normality it'd already possessed due to being a Guardian of the Veil, of course) for all of the reasons that Eli had said, what with the whole planet knowing who I am and stuff.

But I think that if _Mom_ could have managed to have _camped out_ in peace for the last few decades, then so can _I_. . . even if I'm also now living within the advanced technological age, where information can spread like _wildfire_ within seconds.

But who cares??

I'm _freeeee!!!!_

I cannot _wait_ to tell the girls tomorrow!! They're gonna be _so_ psyched! _Especially_ since I won't have to quit being a Guardian or something anymore, either.

I think it's safe to say that life is finally starting to look up.

**-- End of Chapter Thirty Four  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Gasp. Another "twist?" Go, fig. LoL I hadn't really really intended to end it this way or make it be like PD with that whole compromise that Clarisse had made with Mia in the movie and stuff on whether or not she'll choose to ascend the throne of Genovia and blah blah. But then again, it's also not REALLY really like that, either, so...okay. LoL I JUST know that I have a billion more twists and turns before this bad boy's finished, lemme tell ya. LoL I hate this chapter. LoL That came out of no where. LoL Anyway, and I know that someone's gonna be like, "What about the cousins? I want to know more!" No worries! That's the next chapter, trust. Just didn't want to put it in this one because this ending was better. Uh...what else. Oh! Several things! Please go to my profile, and read the recent updates I've made in regard to this story, such as the forum thread I've created for assistance in creating a soundtrack to this story. See the very last link at the bottom of my profile for that, and to suggest tracks YOU think would go good with this story or person within the story. Thanx! Oh, right. And Eli and what he'd said in French and stuff. I'm more fluent in French of the several other languages I can speak than I am in Greek, so if mistakes had been made on the Greek end, sowies. My 'rents are French, not Greek. LoL Anyway, Prime Minister Kyriaki does not exist. Made him up out of respect to the real/current Prime Minister, ****Konstantínos Alexandrou Karamanlís. Anyhow, Eli had merely said – with other things being said on the other end, of course, hence the pauses -- "****Excuse me. . . Yes. . . Yes. . . Thank you. . . Goodnight." And then in French while yelling at Will, he'd essentially said, ****"Damn it! What is this?? Ohh, my God! You want me to go crazy!! It's true!!" Just a little funny moment for ya, there. LoL Well, I always laugh anyway, whenever one or both of my 'rents start ranting in other languages. LoL)**


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note:_ Not much to say, except thanks so very much for all of the reviews for the last chapter and in general. As always, your continued support and enthusiasm is very much appreciated!_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in October 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty Five**

**Wednesday, November 8th, 1:15 am, **

"**My Bedroom" Inside of the Presidential Suite of the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel**

_Still_ doing my homework, can you believe it? It's because I keep falling in and out of _consciousness_. Had to leave the room like _fifty_ times to find some aspirin, too. My head's _killing_ me!

I'm _definitely_ going to fall asleep in every single class and _then_ some later on today.

_Oh_, yeah.

But at least (as far as _I_ know, anyway) I don't have anything major planned today (except taking a _major_ nap).

So, on that note, I thought I'd fire up my laptop once again and dig up some information on the rest of my long lost family:

**Princess Mara**

_Princess Mara of Marsily_

**Full name**

Mara Valda Grazia DeMontaimont

**Titles**

HRH The Princess Mara, Princess of Marsily

HRH The Princess Mara

HRH Princess Mara of Marsily

**Royal house**

House of DeMontaimont

**Father**

King Elisud Alaric DeMontaimont

**Mother**

Queen Adelaide "Ada" Thana Nontle DeMontaimont

**Born**

1 September 1990 (age 17)  
St. Sannahos Hospital, Hoaith, Marsily

**Baptized**

4 October 1990  
St. Edea's Chapel, Arsiliman Palace, Hoaith, Marsily

Mara was born in Hoaith, the capital of Marsily, in St. Sannahos Hospital on 1 September 1990 at 7 am. Her father is King Elisud, the current ruling monarch of Marsily, and her mother is Adelaide Thana Nontle DeMontaimont, Queen of Marsily (born Adelaide Thana Nontle, Princess of Rosaket).

She was christened within the Royal Family Chapel housed within the Arsiliman Palace, St. Edea's Chapel (that was re-constructed in 1876), on 4 October 1990, one month and three days after her birth. Her godparents was her paternal grandfather, King Erhard DeMontaimont of Marsily, and is her maternal grandmother, Queen Maiara Nontle of Rosaket.

Princess Mara's younger siblings are Princess Étaín and Princess Roice, born 1992 and 1995, respectfully. As the eldest, Mara is the heir apparent to the Marsilian throne.

She attends Rori Alcalade College in Lona, Marsily, where she especially excels in History, Political Science and Literature. In her pass time, Princess Mara indulges within various athletic activities, such as equestrian, water polo, and tennis.

Mara can speak five languages fluently, including French, English, Italian, Spanish, and Greek.

**Princess Étaín**

_Princess Étaín of Marsily_

**Full name**

Étaín "Eta" Calanthe Ceri DeMontaimont

**Titles**

HRH The Princess Étaín, Princess of Marsily

HRH The Princess Étaín

HRH Princess Étaín of Marsily

**Royal house**

House of DeMontaimont

**Father**

King Elisud Alaric DeMontaimont

**Mother**

Queen Adelaide "Ada" Thana Nontle DeMontaimont

**Born**

25 July 1992 (age 15)  
St. Sannahos Hospital, Hoaith, Marsily

**Baptized**

16 August 1992  
St. Edea's Chapel, Arsiliman Palace, Hoaith, Marsily

Étaín was born in Hoaith, the capital of Marsily, in St. Sannahos Hospital on 25 July 1992 at 12:13 pm. Her father is King Elisud, ruling monarch of Marsily, and her mother is Adelaide Thana Nontle DeMontaimont, Queen of Marsily (born Adelaide Thana Nontle, Princess of Rosaket).

She was christened within the Royal Family Chapel housed within the Arsiliman Palace, St. Edea's Chapel (that was re-constructed in 1876), on 16 August 1992, one month and twenty days after her birth. Her godparents are her maternal grandfather, King Asil Nontle of Rosaket, and was her paternal grandmother, Queen Sayen DeMontaimont of Marsily.

As the second child born, Princess Étaín's older sibling is Princess Mara (who is the heir apparent to the Marsilian throne), and her younger sibling is Princess Roice, born 1990 and 1995, respectfully.

She attends Rori Alcalade College in Lona, Marsily, with her sister Mara, where she has stated that her two most favorite subjects are Art History and Drama and Theatre.

Étaín is an accomplished opera singer, and avidly enjoys attending as many operas whenever possible. She also enjoys ballet and ballroom dancing, classical music and going to art museums within her spare time.

Although she does not particularly enjoy sweets, Princess Étaín has recently developed a keen interest in food styling and baking. Those within the Royal Family who have been lucky enough to indulge within her various treats have all reportedly claimed that she could very well become a future accomplished _pâtissier_, as well.

**Princess Roice**

_Princess Roice of Marsily_

**Full name**

Roice Tihana Ayn DeMontaimont

**Titles**

HRH The Princess Roice, Princess of Marsily

HRH The Princess Roice

HRH Princess Roice of Marsily

**Royal house**

House of DeMontaimont

**Father**

King Elisud Alaric DeMontaimont

**Mother**

Queen Adelaide "Ada" Thana Nontle DeMontaimont

**Born**

31 January 1995 (age 12)  
Chikako Memorial Hospital, Osaka, Japan

**Baptized**

14 February 1995  
St. Edea's Chapel, Arsiliman Palace, Hoaith, Marsily

Princess Roice Tihana, or simply Princess Roice, was born in Osaka, Japan, in Chikako Memorial Hospital on 31 January 1995 at 8:20 pm. Her father is King Elisud, the current ruling monarch of Marsily, and her mother is Adelaide Thana Nontle DeMontaimont, Queen of Marsily (born Adelaide Thana Nontle, Princess of Rosaket).

She was christened within the Royal Family Chapel housed within the Arsiliman Palace, St. Edea's Chapel (that was re-constructed in 1876), on 14 February 1995, Valentine's Day, one month and fourteen days after her birth. Her godparents are her maternal uncle, Prince Cyril Nontle of Rosaket, and her maternal aunt, Princess Kateri Nontle of Rosaket.

Roice has two older sisters, Princess Mara (who is the heir apparent to the Marsilian throne) and Princess Étaín, born 1990 and 1992, respectfully.

She attends The Vidya School in Olrein, Marsily, where she is currently within her final year before she will attend Rori Alcalade College with both of her sisters next year. Her best courses are English and Geography.

Roice has expressed great interest within photography and astrology. In her spare time she has stated that she also enjoys stargazing, sightseeing and fencing. In addition, she has said that she would like to one day travel all over the world and "truly put (her) knowledge of geography and affinity to photography to good use." She also says that she finds mythology to be fascinating.

Princess Roice has been reported to have an impressive eidetic memory.

And that's it so far. My eyes are in terrible pain right now from keeping them open for so long, so I can't look up anything further. But that's honestly enough for me at the moment.

Yep.

Enough for me to feel even _more_ insecure and inferior than I do within a generally speaking manner, that is.

_Professional__ opera singer??__Eidetic memory??_ Oh, and able to speak _only_ about _one thousand languages, _practically??

I should _definitely_ hang up the towel right _now_. It's too bad that I hadn't researched my cousins _before_ I'd made that deal with Eli earlier, or else I would have said "No, thanks" right then and there.

Because now this information about how evidently _talented_ and _fantastic_ these girls all are is making me feel like _such_ a loser in comparison.

No, no.

A _royal_ loser, pun intended.

Because, honestly here. What do _I_ really have to show for in "competition" as a fellow princess?

I can just _see_ what my future royal biography will write:

"Princess Wilhelmina is some American redhead who is good at science. . . . That's it."

Just one measly sentence, because that's all that will be needed to effectively showcase my utter _lameness_.

And this is just the personal attributes each can and do offer to society. The tip of the iceberg.

Because I've also just looked up each of their _pictures_. . . .

AND THEY'RE ALL THREE OF THEM DROP DEAD GORGEOUS!!!!

_I_ look like a pile of puke next to them, even _with_ my newfound makeover!! I am not even kidding (and oh, how I wish that I was)!!

Étaín is honestly the most attractive in my opinion, because she has the longest hair and looks the _most_ like a supermodel.

Yeah.

Long, wavy coffee caramel colored hair that flows all the way to the middle of her back, steel blue eyes and wheat colored skin.

Oh yeah. And of _course_, a perfect, slender and lengthy body.

Well _duh_. With all that ballet dancing she apparently does, I'd be surprised if she _wasn't_.

And then _Mara_, I can see is the tallest of her sisters and more athletic than Étaín, which would be expected since, based upon that biography of hers, she seems to _live_ for sports and other physical activities in _addition_ to knowledge.

Now _she_ sort of looks like me. Well, I mean, hair length, anyway. Although Mara's is a bit longer (especially now that I've had mine cut), just touching her shoulders. Texture wise, hers is curly, and a more dark chestnut shade variety, and _her_ eyes are honey brown while her skin tone is definitely more dark than Étaín's.

Like a pale, smooth brown.

Basically, yet _another_ beauty, this girl is.

And last but certainly not least is Roice. _She's_ sort of like a blend between her two sisters, physical feature wise. Dark golden blonde hair (that I _guess_ is shoulder length, since the picture I saw had her hair French braided), gray eyes, and toasted almond skin (kinda like Eddie's complexion, although _his_ is a bit more tanned than hers).

_Seriously_, here. If these girls haven't done so already, they _definitely_ need to do some photo shoots.

I mean, _Roice_ is only _twelve-years-old_, and she _already_ looks like a goddess much like her siblings. _Clearly_ no "awkward phase" of puberty for _this_ pre-teen.

And not to say that Eli isn't attractive (because I will at _least_ give him _that_), but his daughters, while looking a bit like him, yes, have obviously heavily inherited their beauty from their _mother_.

Well, right now this is just mere speculation because I haven't yet looked up Queen Adelaide's biography _or_ picture, but I will later.

Yeah, let me note that.

_Note to self_: Take a nap when I get "home" from school, and _then_ do research on my Aunt Adelaide.

Ooh. That felt weird . . . but kinda _nice_ to write.

"Aunt," I mean. Never have before for anything or any_one_, obviously.

But yeah. It feels pretty neat to do.

Oh, right. Speaking of biography. I'm guessing it's because my debut into the whole world over is still pretty new that Mara's bio still said that _she's_ the "heir apparent to the Marsilian throne." I mean, she definitely still _will_ be once I say a firm, forever "No!" to accepting the crown for _myself_ once my birthday comes, but everyone doesn't know that yet.

So I guess once someone writes up _my_ biography, (Still a very bizarre concept to fully grasp, I might add) they will put that heir apparent crap down for _me_ instead.

What I'm _most_ really "nervous" about is how that will make _Mara_ feel. I'm going to assume that maybe she's always known about me, or about the "first born rules" law, rather. But is she _cool_ with that?

All I'm saying is I don't want my cousin whom I've never met and probably will pretty _soon_ to hold a _grudge_ against me _just_ because I'm slightly older and am Mom's daughter.

Bleh.

But that's another issue for another time.

_Screw_ the rest of my homework. I'll try to finish it during study hall.

Time for glorious, _glorious_ sleep and dreams of Emin Evgar.

Tee hee.

**-- End of Chapter Thirty Five  
**

* * *

**(A.N. Not bad, I guess. Had to do a lot of revisions on how I wanted to portray each sister. That is, their interests and such. The looks was easy because I've just based them upon members of my family. Yay. LoL I was going to do Ada's biography as well, but I, like Will, got tired and head started to hurt so I left it just to her daughters, the chapter's main focus. But I will do hers later, no worries. Uh . . . what else. Oh, yeah. Yes, I'd yet again made up another country, Rosaket. And anything else you might not have recognized. LoL Uh . . . That's it, I think. LoL I might draw what the cousins look like later, though, just for those who can't or won't bother to imagine them for themselves. LoL)**


	36. Chapter Thirty Six

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer:**I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note:_Can't believe this story's almost a year old come Halloween (and I guess November 4__th__, posting wise and making it known to you guys). Time flies, huh? LoL Thanks again, of course, for making it so popular and enjoying it for the entire year's time! _

* * *

This chapter was created/written in October 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty Six**

**Wednesday, November 8th, World History, **

Today,_so_ far, is . . . I _guess_ a tad less eventful than yesterday, which is good because I've zero energy for fresh calamities as I have been falling asleep in just about every class.

And now that I'm here in World History, it's taking all the willpower I have at the moment to make it.

That's why I'm writing my entry right now rather than later, as a way to help stimulate my brain long enough until the period's over, even though I never normally do so because it's too risky. You know, since Mr. Lenzer can see all, and because I'm in the front row and center.

Oh, and also because I'm a princess (that he'd pay extra attention to me if at all) and he's currently in the middle of teaching us all about "my" country. But I've been alternating between note taking and journal writing for the last few minutes without getting noticed (which is amazing to me, again because I'm front and center. But I guess maybe Lenzer thinks I need _two_ notebooks or something to fit in all the extra notes I might be taking down about Marsily -- Um, _no_), so I think I'll be okay.

Actually, I lied. I _have_ been noticed. Just not by the _teacher_.

All of the kids seated around me seem to keep _watching_ at me to honestly see what _I'm_ doing or might do next, I suppose, before doing the same, themselves. For instance, every time I've slouched within my seat or had straightened up my posture, seconds later I have three to five kids, who are surrounding me, all at once mimicking said movements.

What happened to hating my _guts_ for having to learn something extra? Oh, wait. No. I can hear faint whispers going on behind me _about_ me, and in the negative sense, as though on cue . . . Something about: "Yeah. She _knows_ she's going to get an A on this crap, and so _that's_ why she's not even paying _attention_ or writing down the notes. . . . This is _such_ bullsh --"

. . . And you know the rest.

_First_ off, stop being so damned nosy.

Second, it isn't my _fault!_ Blame _Ian_, remember? _He_ wanted to learn about Marsily, _not_ I.

But whatever.

This morning when I woke up it was pretty much the same deal as the previous morning, although it had taken less time (to get dressed and "royally prepared) since it had been my _hair cut_ that had required the most fuss and attention. I mean, it still kind of did today, as well, but given that the trimming and all that had already been taken care of, it wasn't so bad.

Plus, because I had gone with this pretty cute, golden sunflower colored babydoll dress (which shocked Mom _and_ myself to have done, as we are both aware that if I ever have an honest choice between jeans or a dress -- And I _did_ -- I usually go with the jeans. This selection had made Eli ecstatic, of course, judging by his facial expression as I was heading back to the bedroom to go try it on), my hair had been styled appropriately and swept up into a neat, simple bun.

And now I currently look like a _fashion diva_, truthfully.

But at least it's comfortable to wear and the weather isn't too brisk today to wear it at all. (There goes that Global Warming, again.) Although my _shoes_, while pretty comfy, as well, are _also_ high heeled _and_ beginning to _bug_ me a bit right now.

Not too mention that I have gym class next period I just realized. . . .

Damn.

I never normally wear or do anything "fancy" with myself on the days that I have P.E. (with a few days ago as the exception, when I'd momentarily lost my _sanity_ and had mistakenly thought that "_someone"_ had actually liked me _back_), because I know that I'll just get sweaty and have my hair be a mess.

Er. Or, an even _bigger_ mess, anyway (although not so much anymore with my new do, again).

Oh, well. Not much I can do about that. Can't (and _wouldn't_ -- _Eww_. Can we say contracting-foot-fungus-_city?_) take a shower after class because they've been closed off and only to be used by the sports teams after school.

Besides, I don't normally perspire a whole lot, anyway, and _definitely_ don't get stinky, either.

So I'll only just have to worry about my hair, which is actually pretty unmovable, thanks to all of the holding spray that's been sprayed into it.

Uh. Right.

So as I was saying before my large tangent (kinda), this morning was tolerable. Even got to actually have some breakfast this time, too,_because_ of the extra time, so _that_ was a plus.

And, before I'd left with Mom (who was running a bit late for work today -- Said she hadn't slept well. I'm not surprised by this, of course, given all the drama she was having last night. I'm wondering, though, how she's been dealing with continuing working at Simultech now that _her_ secret is out. Gotta remember to ask her this some time) and our bodyguards, Eli simply told us -- Well, _me_, to "have a nice day, and I will see you for supper, yes?"

What the heck?

No "stay out of trouble," or "see you for some more boring princess stuff"?

Scary, right?

Oh. And. _And_ he'd even given me a . . . _genuine smile_ when he'd said it, too.

_Totally_ caught me off guard. _So_ much so that I'd accidentally bumped into one of the two fancy vases that have been placed near the door as I walked towards it.

Thank _God_ for Mom's quick reflexes, or else it'd have shattered for sure, and Eli probably would have immediately wiped the smile off his face and gone into yet _another_ bilingual rant. But he'd honestly just let out a small sigh when he saw what had happened, before raising his teacup to his face to sip from yet again at the same time that he'd waved goodbye to Mom and myself.

Maybe he's _sick? _Sounds mean to say this, but that would be wishful thinking. And I only say so because then if he _was_ he'd be unable to boss me around some more. Maybe he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something today . . . which, in _his_ case, would mean that he _would_ be more "jolly" and tolerable than normal.

Whatever. Doesn't matter. _Either_ way, I _still_ don't like _or_ trust him.

The emergence from the hotel and drive over to school hadn't changed, though, as it was _just_ as chaotic as yesterday. And yet _again_ reporters were absolutely _everywhere_, asking me a platoon of questions once more.

I'd heard one that was kind of new, however, about my clothes (that was also a bit complimenting to _have_ heard).

Someone, a chick from what I could hear, had asked, "Princess Wilhelmina! From where or _whom_ do you draw your inspiration for your attire? Does it come from _yourself?_ And if so, have you any tips for young girls who may wish to one day emulate your _fabulously_ keen flare for fashion and style?"

How neat was that? I mean, it's too bad it really _isn't_ my doing, these clothes (despite having picked out both today and yesterday's outfit, so technically I guess it _is_ me), so _that'll_ be disappointing to the youngins, but still.

Pretty cool. Never had anyone honestly compliment me on my clothes before, really, so yeah. Well, I mean, they _have_, but more so in the "You look cute in that shirt, Will!" versus, "You have fantastic taste in clothing, Will!"

So, thanks, whatever female reporter had said this.

And it's like I'm already some spokesmodel for what to and _not_ wear. Can't wait to see Cornelia's face later on today once she sees me.

Then again, no. I _can_. Don't want _more_ drama or face from her, which I know I totally will, regardless.

Sigh. . . .

As for first first and second period, they weren't bad, either. Second period was pretty much the same as yesterday, so I won't bother with further details on that.

Plus, between the two, _first_ period had been more . . . "momentous" than second, anyhow.

But it definitely wasn't the kind of "momentous" I would ever be a fan of, mind.

That is, it was due to both Martin _and_ Alec wishing to volunteer to do my lab experiment for me when it had come time to do so later in the period after some note taking beforehand. They _even_ began to argue -- Quite _loudly_, I will regrettably add, over who would "win."

Not_ only_ did they _both_ end up with detention, but they continued to fight about the premiere matter (alongside the new one of how they'd gotten one another in trouble), _anyhow_, even_ after_ I'd completed the experiment on my own (clearly without them having yet realized) and they hadn't even finished their _own_ -- Which is an _absolute first_ for Martin.

So, yeah. I think it's safe to say that Martin indeed has a crush, to the _extreme_, on me now.

_Gag_ me.

But at least he hasn't called _me_ any of those bizarre pet names he used to with _Irma_, like "Pickle-Lips" or something emotionally tragic like that.

No. He's actually downgraded within his flirting tactics -- With me, at least.

That is, he won't even _speak_ to me anymore. He can't look at me for very long, either, without instantly turning red and looking away while giggling uncontrollably. And whenever I, myself, try to talk to him, he can only muster things like, ". . . Uh . . . heh . . . Um . . . heh heh. . . ."

_This_ is going to be fun, dealing with everything else for the rest of the year in addition to Martin and his newfound infatuation with me.

Maybe I'll ask Irma for tips on how to effectively deal with him. If anyone would know how, it certainly _would_ be her, after all.

Oh, dang. Gotta go. Stupid Lenzer's now looking my way expectantly.

_Such_ a useless class, I'm telling ya.

**-- End of Chapter Thirty Six  
**

* * *

**(A.N. I Know. "That's it?" Did it on purpose. Not only just for what I have planned next, but because the extra long entries have been taking a lot of my time, lately, and I barely have enough as it is. No worries, though. This day's only just begun for young Will, and we all know I do so enjoy tormenting her. LoL)**


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer:**I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note:_Yay! One year anniversary has come and gone! Woo! Go, Will and this story! Go, Will and this story! LoL But yeah! Thanks, everyone, again for the continued support and eagerness to see what happens next! Oh, and also thanks for the continued help for the (monstrously) growing soundtrack for this story! If you haven't gone already, please use the link in my profile, the very last one, that'll lead you straight to the track listing that you can help contribute to _

_And woo!! __**300 reviews**__ (Well, 310 now LoL) The most ever for all of my stories (even more than my Req. story)!! All's I can say is I must be doing SOMETHING right with this story and all my others for all of you – even the most stringent – to continue to read this story, like what you have, and come back for more each and every time I review. And for that I honestly AM extremely happy and humbled by your continued support. Nice to always know that I (seem to) keep succeeding in entertaining all of you._

_So thanks again, and please enjoy the three updates of three chapters!! Yay!_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in November 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty Seven**

**Wednesday, English,**

_(Singing)_ "Who's the woman that's super cool with lots of fans? _WILL!_ Ya _dammmnnn_ right!"

Sorry. It's just that that one movie from the 1970s had just come into my head, and so I'd put a twist on the theme song for it.

_I_ think it's appropriate, anyway, my new version. I say this, because the longer I spend on campus and around these people, the more of a celebrity or _Guru_ or something I truly seem to become.

But then, also, by the _same_ token, the longer I spend on campus and around these people, the more _hated_ I become, as well.

It's just thankful that I've mainly (so far) come across those who _like_ me, versus those who might be jealous of and hate me.

But that doesn't make it any better, of course. (Being more so liked than anything else, I mean.) Because, have I mentioned before that:

I HATE UNWANTED ATTENTION????

And_ now_, it's like to the _extreme_ here, multiplied _squared_.

No room to _breathe_, man. No room to breathe.

Like_ gym_ class, for example.

It was _absolutely_ ridiculous. So was _lunchtime_, as well, but we'll deal with one thing at a time.

P.E. was excessively boring, of course, because we're _still_ doing stupid Circuit Training. But at least _this_ time around, I wasn't alone because Irma and Hay Lin are talking to me now.

Truthfully, though, I did still feel a bit sad initially, because I was promptly reminded of how _Sprita_ had been the only one to remain at my side and keep me company last time. . . . I mean, yeah, it was mainly due to the fact that she didn't have a _choice_ in the same way that now both Nova _and_ Ernest hadn't, themselves, this morning.

But still. She _did_ nonetheless _tried_ to cheer me up, later on, after all. . . .

_Ugh_. I'm _clearly_ going to be forever plagued by the guilt of having gotten that poor girl fired, I just _know_ it.

It's to be _expected_, however, because I'm a Capricorn, and we're _notorious_ for being _very_ pessimistic, worrisome and tragic-oriented, sadly. But maybe I can appease the Karma Gods for this and send like a fruit basket or something to wherever Sprita now is, before said Gods seek retribution by making my life be even _more_ erratic.

Alas. . . . Uh. What was I talking about, originally?

Oh, right. Gym class.

Sorry. It's kind of hard to focus on what I'm writing right now, because Ms. Wojick's currently giving useful notes and tips on how we should conduct our "I Am" poems. And since I still haven't started it,_or_ have a clue on what to write, I should _probably_ stop writing this entry and focus all of my (still pretty sleepy) attention onto class.

But . . . yeah. I guess I won't, so much. Really want to write this all out before I forget any details due to said continued fatigue.

Anyway. Gym class was odd, as I'd begun to write.

Very true.

So much so, that I had to go get dressed into my gym clothes inside one of the bathroom stalls in the Girls' locker room, because nearly every girl inside wanted a piece of me.

No kidding, here.

Like I was a _rock star _and they each wanted to be my _groupie_ (and some probably really _did_) which is a _huge_ no-no, of course.

I just really wouldn't get much peace or room to get dressed otherwise (if I hadn't gone into the bathroom stall, I mean) because as soon as I'd walked into the locker room my fellow female gym mates had stopped talking, changing _and_ moving, _all_ to watch _my_ every move.

It was like the HBF again, I will bring up once more, yes, when the girls were eyeballing, talking about and laughing at me _maliciously_, only _this_ time they were talking about me (mostly) within a_ positive_ light and giggling out of excited nerves.

Still didn't make it very copasetic for me, though.

After I'd finished getting dressed and went back over to my locker to carefully put my (again, presumably expensive) clothes away inside, I find Hay Lin and Irma standing there, already dressed within their _own_ gym clothes and waiting for me with amused grins upon their faces.

But I'd _also_ found literally two rows of eagerly awaiting girls standing _behind_ them, waving feverishly at me for the most part, while others had pieces of paper within their hands and writing utensils.

I didn't even know _what_ to think. I mean, I _kinda_ did, but my brain wasn't making much sense. The only thing that was clear inside my head was me thinking, _Are they __serious??_

Because it was _obvious_ that these girls intended to receive my_ autograph!_ How bizarre is _that??_ I guess I _was_ right about that, huh? I just didn't honestly think that it'd be so_ soon_, and _definitely_ not from the ladies within my gym class of all places, since most of them have _massive_, stuck up attitudes and think that they're better than everyone else.

Can we say, _two-faced?_

And of course, you _know_ that my fellow Guardian pals were enjoying_ every_ moment -- _That_ goes without saying.

"We've been keeping your loyal -- No, no, _wait!_ I _should_ say, _royal_ fans entertained, Princess, until you'd finished getting dressed into your royal athletic garments," Irma teased me as soon as I got close enough and she'd caught my perplexed expression at the sight.

I could only groan and give the Water Guardian a flat look while my brain struggled for something to say that would dissuade the bubbly girls before her to, basically, get bent, but in a nice way.

Hay Lin, meanwhile, once again bowed before me in respect and flashed me a fantastic one hundred watt smile (or one million, in her case) before speaking.

"_Totally!_ I mean, I _still_ can't get over that our own, typically shy and reserved Willie Vandom is now some . . . Pop Princess . . . _Princess!_ Isn't that so _neat_, you guys??" she gushed, hopping up and down like a child, causing a chain reaction as a result, as _her_ side of my "fans" began to do the same.

I raised both eyebrows and puckered my lips a moment. I wanted to burst her bubble right then and tell both her _and_ Irma that I'm only going to be "princess" in name only, I _didn't_ want to do so in front of all of those chickies.

So, clearing my throat, I forced as happy a smile as I could muster and said to them, "Um . . . thanks so much for, uh . . . liking me? And I appreciate you all evidently wanting my autograph, too. But I think we'd all better head into the gym before we're marked late. . . ."

When I was turning around I heard one of the girls ask if I would do so some time later, like during the next gym class, and even though I hadn't any intention of doing so, I said "sure," nonetheless. But only because I didn't want them popping off at the mouth about how I was being (just as) stuck up (as they are . . . ahem).

Anyhow, now _here_ is where it really got "Freaky Friday"-ish, except it's Wednesday, obviously.

I'm moving about the gym with Irma and Hay Lin to the various weight-lifting equipment set out, while idly chatting about various things (and desperately trying to let their continued teasing comments roll off of my back, while _also_ trying to block out everyone else present who would periodically watch me. Oh, and while Ernest and Nova sat in a row of opened bleachers) before I told them about my deal with Eli, when _Scary Mary_, of all people, suddenly comes up from behind me.

"_Hiii_, Will! Oh!_Forgive_ me! _Princess_ Wilhelmina!" I could regrettably hear her say just as I'd bent over to pick up a five pound weight from off of the set up mat. (This is my favorite part or area of the Circuit Training regiment every time we have to do it, purely because one is able to B.S. his or her way through the period if done properly. You know, just pick up the lightest weight and swing your arms around to make it look like you're making a conscious effort. And you're home free.)

Irma and I shared an exasperated glance before I turned around, while I could hear Hay Lin lightly giggle at the sight.

"Uh . . . h-_hi_, Mary. You can just continue to call me _Will_, thank you," I said weakly, bracing myself for whatever new annoyance this girl was going to bestow upon me. At least I had Irma and Hay Lin with me to help lessen the perturbation, though.

That is, I _did_, until Irma suddenly goes, "You know what? I'm thinking I'm going to go give that treadmill over there a run for its money -- _Literally!_Hay Lin! Care to join me? _Sure_ you do!"

And before either Hay Lin _or_ myself could say anything, I deplorably watched the petite raven haired girl get helplessly dragged away by her brunette companion, leaving me alone with the Queen of Two-Faced People.

As though to illustrate my point, Mary says to me, "_Well!_ I guess that just leaves you and _me!_Which is great, if you don't mind my saying so, since I was kinda hoping that you and I could seriously have a heart to heart. . . ."

Wrinkling my nose, I raised an eyebrow in both surprise as well as natural suspicion while continuing to pretend as though I honestly cared about lifting my feather-like weight within my hand.

"'Heart to heart?' What're you talking about, Mary?" I asked, for whatever reason bothering to humor the freckled, frizzy-haired brunette who'd then moved next to me on the mat to lift some weights, as well.

Mary grinned.

"Well,_you_ know! Because you and I have never really gotten that _close_, and I've always found that to be a shame, considering you and I share a . . . _relationship_ with Matt Olsen," she began, her smile wavering a bit at the last comment, before she'd promptly reinforced it and continued on. "And so I was hoping that . . . if you're not too _busy_ -- I mean, what with your super cool new life as _such_ a famous person and all -- maybe you'd want to come to my 'Post Halloween/Pre-Thanksgiving' party that I'm having next weekend!"

I just stared at her with a no-holds-barred incredulous look upon my face as I stopped lifting the five pound weight. _Obviously_ there was a catch, like her wishing to be catapulted within popularity by having _me_ present at her house during a grand social gathering like a party.

Like _that_ was going to happen.

I _know_ she hates me. And _I'm_ not fond of _her_. And even if I _wasn't_ a princess or she'd just invited me "just because," I _still_ wouldn't entertain the notion.

And right when I was about to basically tell the shady teenager this, Mary unawarely interrupted me.

"No worries, Will! You don't have to say anything just yet! You _do_ have twelve whole days! And I wouldn't want you to feel like _such_ a _terrible_ person for bailing out on a commitment if you said yes now but didn't show," she remarked, smiling sweetly at me, before already setting down both of the weights she'd picked up. "After all, you _are_ an important and impressionable figurehead, now -- You wouldn't want to send the _wrong_ message to the masses. . . . _Well!_ See you later, Princess!"

Okay.

_How_ 'WTF' was all of that? I'm _pretty_ sure that this crafty, _devilish_ young woman just trapped me within a Catch-22 or whatever.

Like, if I _do_ go to her stupid party, she'll most likely suck up to me to the point of driving me insane, thus ruining my evening or something (although being there at all would have accomplished that all on its own). And if I _don't_ go, she'd probably have hired a couple of private dicks or photojournalists to investigate and capture how "rude and unsympathetic the newest Princess of Marsily _truly_ is."

Don't want _that_ stigma attached to me for the rest of my days, ruler or not.

So, needless to say, Mary had succeeded in flabbergasting me.

_Told_ ya gym class sucked, damn it.

And lunchtime wasn't a ray of sunshine, either.

Nope.

It was even _more_ chaotic.

After I'd parted ways with Irma and Hay Lin (who were laughing their butts off continually at the whole Mary thing after I'd told them -- Some friends, right?), I headed to the cafeteria.

Then, after I'd gone inside, nearly everyone there instantly turned their heads to watch me enter and make my way to my table, where Cornelia and Caleb were already seated and beginning to eat.

At this, I took a deep, as-calm-as-possible breath while Ernest and Nova waited patiently behind me to make my move and people already began to rush towards me.

Then I'd stepped forward.

Since so much had happened at once, you know what's going to happen now, don't you?

Yep.

"Lazy Mode."

You're so good at guessing, my dear diary-guy-thing.

Me:_(Quickly maneuvering around and rushing away from a platoon of people, mainly girls yet again -- Figures -- coming towards me)_ U-uh . . . h-hi, everyone! I'm just . . . gonna go over there now and eat my lunch! Later!

"Everyone:"_(Actually respecting my boundaries and stopped to watch me quickly walk over to Cornelia and Caleb at the table)_ You look _so_ kick ass today, Princess Will! You are _so_ lucky to be an actual, real life _princess!_

Me:_(Thinking this in my head)_ Sure. Lucky. _Not_.

Cornelia:_(Whose back was to me while I was approaching, but nonetheless knew that it __was__ me, clearly because of the sudden ruckus and based upon what she says now)_ . . . How nice of you to grace us with your _glorified_ presence, _Your Highness_. Now all time as _well_ as life can resume once again throughout the land.

Me:_(Sighing heavily as I take a seat across from her and Ernest and Nova stood behind me once more)_ Cornelia, please. It's not like I_ asked_ for everyone to act this way, _or_ for any of this at --

Cornelia:_(Whose preset deep scowl suddenly hardened even more at the sight of me, thrusts her fork at me)_ -- Wow, okay. Now I've seen_ everything_.

Me:_(Fully aware that she's referring to my attire, after all having expected her to run her mouth about it)_ Yeah. _Here_ it comes. . . .

Cornelia:_(Scoffs, forcing a smile upon her face while Caleb smartly takes a bite of his own food before turning his body away from his girlfriend a bit to look towards the cafeteria doors where Taranee could then be seen entering)_ What? I'm _just_ saying that who would have thought that _you_ of all people would suddenly hold a _fashion_ show for the general population every single day? Clearly _someone's_ grown accustomed to the "lap of luxury" pretty quickly. . . .

Me:_(Looking at Cornelia with an incredulous gaze, stopping from pulling out my bagged lunch of my leftover dinner that I hadn't finished late last night from out of my book bag)_ Are you _kidding_ me? I _knew_ you were going to give me a hard time with how I'm dressed today and lately, Cornelia, but I _didn't_ think that you'd take it so far as to actually go after my _moral fiber!_ When have I _ever_ come off as some _materialistic jerk_ in all the years you've known me?

Cornelia:_(Dropping her fork onto her plate of food as her mouth also drops open in evident perturbation, just as Caleb mysteriously gets up from the table to go greet Taranee, while I could see "Everyone" beginning to approach again, sadly)_ _Oh!_ And what is _that_, an open shot at _me?? _

. . . And it didn't get any better from there, _trust_ me.

Before I could answer and say no, that _wasn't_ a shot at her (not _really_, anyway), the _next_ thing I know, I'm being literally swarmed by "Everyone," who were all simultaneously asking me questions, for more autographs, _and_ giving me gifts in _addition_ to food!!!!

Like I'm some _alter_ or _shrine!_

And even though Ernest and Nova both had tried their best to hold them at bay at a decent enough distance, I _still_ had them too close for _my_ taste.

But it wasn't until one blonde haired chick had asked me a personal question that Cornelia drew the line, apparently, and . . . well,_snapped_, I guess you could say.

See, the girl was all, "Oh! My _God!_ Um, h-h-h-hi! Er, no! _Hello_, Your Highness! M-my name's Debe Winsler, a sophomore, and I _super_ doubt you know me or anything _about_ me before now! B-but that's _okay!_ Um . . . _God_, I'm so nervous! Hee hee! Uh . . . I was just wondering if you could give me your honest opinion on something!"

Seeing that I didn't really have much choice and I didn't want to come off as impolite or anything (before word really would get around, _without_ Mary's help, even), I said, just as nervously as this Debe person, "Oh! Um . . . _sure?_"

To which Cornelia scoffed with _extreme_ loudness and then mumbled something incoherently under her breath, while Caleb and Taranee (who'd both just settled back into their seats just then) stared at the new gathering and development with widened eyes and befuddled expressions.

Amen to _that_.

So,_Debe_ continues on in her inquiry with, "T-thanks so _much!_ Okay, you see, this guy I've _only_ liked for _forever_ has _finally_ noticed me and asked me out!!" she began with an instant rouge flushing her dimpled, naturally pale face, while my heart sort of stung a bit (since it kinda reminded me of how _I_ used to be about Caleb). "A-_anyway!_ I was wondering what do you think I should wear to a movie, since you seem _so_ in tune with fashion!!"

And that was _it_ for Cornelia.

After hearing this compliment (one that I keep getting all _day_, good Lord), the Earth, _should_-be-far-more-grounded (no pun intended) Guardian suddenly threw her arms into the air, stood from her place while gathering up her belongings, and stormed away from the table with a rather deafening, rather _disgusted_ groan.

She _totally_ just bailed on me _and_ Taranee and left the cafeteria altogether. _Even_ left her precious boyfriend behind, too.

Must have been _pretttttty_ pissed off to have done something like_that_.

It'd taken a few moments for reality to catch up to everyone (my "following" included, yes), but once it had, Taranee and I shared a surprised gaze before we both looked at Caleb a bit expectantly . . . who looked back at _us_ momentarily, before looking down at the table with his head bowed slightly and an embarrassed frown riddled upon his tanned face. Then, he'd exhaled slowly, awkwardly waved goodbye at us before leaving the table to presumably go after his retreated girlfriend.

I actually felt kind of sorry for the guy.

I mean, just for the sole fact that that must have been pretty embarrassing to have your girlfriend have a gigantic _meltdown_ or something in front of loads and _loads_ of people.

And _I_ know a thing or two about embarrassing moments and feelings, after all.

But . . . yeah. After that uncomfortable mishap, Taranee had thankfully taken it upon herself to "shoo" "Everyone" away, citing "technical princess difficulties," as she cutely put it before promising the still awaiting Debe that I'd get back to her tomorrow with an answer.

Thanks, 'Ranee. I needed that. And _definitely_ a hired assistant, to help me with this increased chaos.

Hmm.

Note to self: Use some of Eli's millions of dollars to buy personal assistants, as well as super buff security guards to assist Ernest and Nova keep away the locos.

After she'd done this for me, I'd promptly thanked Taranee for it and then asked Ernest and Nova to stand in front of _and_ behind the table so that the "perimeter" could be checked at all times while I tried to finish eating my lunch with Taranee (who'd ironically brought a bagged lunch from home with her today, as well).

It isn't as though we'd forgotten about Cornelia and her upset, though, because I _did_ ask Taranee if she thought we should go after her. But she said that she thinks that Cornelia just needs some alone time, and that at least she has Caleb with her wherever she now was to comfort her . . . something I'd swiftly blocked out of my mind's eye lest I'd grown nauseous or irritated and/or Taranee mentally picked up on that.

So instead, I decided to finally bring up my Meridian trip since I at least still had _one_ Guardian present, I was kinda alone, and had honestly wanted to use this lunchtime to do so since I have free time today. You know, to actually sit down and discuss it all out thoroughly, without being spirited away by one or _both_ of my bodyguards to _some_ new royal appointment.

But I obviously couldn't do it _verbally_ as Ernest and Nova, while focusing upon the still gushing fellow lunch mates surrounding us at their own tables, could easily overhear as well. So I had no choice but to capitalize upon Taranee's telepathic abilities.

Just had to _only_ focus upon Elyon, what she'd told to me and Matt about the supposed rumors of a revolt, and _not_ how I was worried that the Queen would think twice about me if she'd ever found out I was in love with her best friend's boyfriend.

So here's what _mentally_ went down while the two of us finished up our meals.

Me: _Hey, T. I gotta tell you something. . . ._

Taranee: _Lemme guess. You're not __really__ a redhead? Heh heh._

Me: _Ha. __Very__ funny. No. It's actually important._

Taranee:_ Well I'd imagine __so__ if you're choosing to converse __telepathically__ versus verbalizing . . . although, with your giant fan base watching your every move now, I can't say that I blame you. Just hope that I don't have any __mustard__ stains on my mouth from my sandwich. __Do__ I? __Talk__ about embarrassing, since all eyes are virtually on us __both__ right now. . . ._

Me: _(Looking at her to see) No, you're fine. __I'm__ the one who has to worry about looking like a fool, anyway, what with paparazzi and __other__ media psychos trying desperately to get every snapshot they can of me. . . ._

Taranee:_ That's true. . . . Not to mention __creepy stalkers__ who will want to collect strands of your __hair__ or something perverse like that to make some __sculpture__ or whatever that'll bear your resemblance, but __then__ they'll later want to __kidnap__ you once they've realized that that isn't __enough__, and --_

Me:_-- Wow! Taranee! Thanks so __much__ for that, like I wasn't __already__ mondoly spooked by prospects such as that. . . ._

Taranee: _Heh . . . sorry, Will. You know that I tend to get carried away sometimes. . . . But, okay! About Elyon . . . Hey! Yeah! What __about__ Elyon?? Is she all right? Did she contact you? Or visit? Why didn't she see __all__ of us or __Cornelia__, at least?_

Me:_ No, no. She's __fine__! It's just. . . ._

And that's when I'd explained everything to her, from top to bottom, _including_ why I'd gone in the first place or had the notion to, rather.

And surprisingly, I hadn't _once_ let my mind falter and veer towards Caleb or _anything_.

Yay.

Plus, it felt super great to finally get it off my chest. _See? _I _am_ so still all about my Guardian duties. No _way_ is being a princess ever going to get in the way of that . . . I _hope _not

After properly digesting it all mentally, Taranee stared at me with a surprised, then scowling expression. Well, it was more like the reprimanding kind of expression that your parent or teacher would give to you when they're _disappointed_ in you.

Hate that. Don't you hate hearing that?

Finally, my mind could hear her say:

Taranee:_ So . . . you went to Metamoor -- By yourself, technically -- to consult with Ellie __and__ try to make her eradicate the genetic fact that you are now a princess . . . who then smartly __refused__ . . . and then told you about how she might have possible trouble on her hands. . . . And you __never__ once bothered to tell us __any__ of this when it was still fresh, __all__ because you were too focused upon trying to __forget__ about reality? Does __that__ sum it up and sound about right to you?_

Me:_ Mmm . . . __pretty__ much, yeah._

Taranee:_ (Frowning inappreciatively) __Will!_

Me: _(Smirking lightly) Well, __what --! __Okay__! So, __yes__, I went __without__ you guys and selfishly tried to take advantage of a just ruler's __literal__ power, all because I didn't and __still__ don't want to rule over Marsily -- Which, as it turns out, I don't __have__ to anymore, thank __God__! Oh, __damn__! I __knew__ there was something I'd forgotten to tell Irma and Hay Lin in gym class! I can't believe I honestly __could__, considering how __excited__ I am about it! Ugh!__ Stupid__ Mary totally distracted me with her party invitation -- __Don't__ ask. . . ._

Taranee:_ (Scrunching her face up in faint confusion) Yeah! Thanks, 'cause you're __seriously__ not making sense right now -- And __I'm__ the psychic one._

Me:_ (Rolls eyes up towards the cafeteria ceiling) Argh! Just --! __Never__ mind! __Thank__ you, though, for the whole not probing my mind further to find out on your __own__ as both you and I know, __duh__, you definitely __can__ do and __have__ when we were younger. But I totally promise to tell __all__ of you about that later today -- Hopefully immediately after school, since I was also kinda hoping we could all have a Guardian meeting somewhere and Fold back over to Metamoor to check on things together. So, you see?? I always was and still am all about our continued jobs as inter-world protectors! Ha!_

At this, Taranee slowly smiled softly and raised a hand towards me.

"All right, all _right_. I _believe_ you," she began verbally, lowering her voice before leaning closer to me. "But, I guess I'd better 'put in a call' to the others _now_ before I or all of us make plans to go, or _be_ somewhere else. It's definitely a good thing that none of us have any regularly scheduled obligations on Wednesdays, so smart thinking there, Will."

I rolled my eyes once more at the last comment and smirked.

"Well, _chuh_. I _may_ be a princess, now, but it _doesn't_ mean that I've lost my _sense_, either," I replied, finished with my meal. Well, not _all_ of it, anyway. (My _sense_, not my lunch. Keep up, people.) "And it was _also_ why I'd asked to meet yesterday after school, too, but had to jet at the last minute, sorry -- _Also_ something I'll _happily_ explain later. . . . But, yeah. Do you even think that Cornelia's gonna answer you _or_ meet up with us?"

Taranee nodded slowly, growing a bit distracted as she clearly began to concentrate on sending out her mental "vibe" to the other Guardians.

". . . _I_ think so, sure. . . . I mean, Elyon _is_ her very best friend, after all. _Besides_, I'm sure whatever got up her skirt earlier, though, was nothing major, anyhow. . . ."

Well _that's_ certainly a pipe dream right there.

I mean, _seriously_. For a Taurus, Cornelia sure cannot let things go so easily sometimes -- Like a _Capricorn_, I will point out, again.

I didn't know _specifically_ what her beef was, but it _clearly_ didn't take a _Rocket Scientist _to know that _I'm_ apparently the enemy within her eyes right now.

So, to hear that her leader, _also_ me, wanted her to stick around after school just because I'd said so, basically, was _not_ gonna go over very well for her -- Even _if_ it _was_ for her closest friend's sake.

How fun _this_ will be. . . .

Anyway, so here I am now, in English, having parted ways with Taranee and never saw neither Cornelia nor Caleb return. Maybe they'd just wandered the halls or went to the other cafeteria on the other side of the building where _this_ class is (and I'd honestly eat within, instead, in order to get here more quickly, but then I couldn't eat with Taranee and Cornelia . . . despite the fact that the latter individual hates my guts right now), even though that's "illegal" and considered loitering (And if a hall monitor catches you doing said wandering, it's usually a detention for you).

But, ah well.

Guess it's what they _must_ have done (gone to the other cafeteria or whatever, I mean), because when I walked into the classroom Caleb was already seated, with his notebook out and everything while idly chatting with a fellow classmate nearby.

And when I sat down at my seat next to him, I caught him giving me the_ dirtiest_ look.

Okay. Well not _exactly_ dirty, really. More like a _piercing_ look, but not in a good way (like romantic or whatever) _or_ creepy stalkerish, either.

I just figured it was because he's now taken Cornelia's side in whatever blaspheming thing she might have said about me. And/or also because of Taranee's universal message to stay after school and then Cornelia probably having told him in passing.

Probably thinking how irresponsible I was for not telling them sooner, especially since he'd asked about Metamoorian crap just yesterday, too.

So_ now_, you can also add "liar" and "reckless," or even "unworthy of the Heart of Candracar" on the _mountainous_ list of offenses he most likely has against me currently.

Oh. And "annoyer of my girlfriend" or whatever, too.

Wait. Is annoyer even a _word?_ Hold on . . . yep! It is. Just checked my little pocket dictionary I carry around with me, _clearly_ for moments like these.

Anyway!

At least class was just about to start when I'd gotten inside of the room, because then Caleb could _not_ have told me off if he'd wanted to.

Like I really _need_ more drama, right?

_That's_ why as soon as that bell rings, I am _such_ a _ghost_.

**-- End of Chapter Thirty Seven  
**

* * *

**(A.N. LoL Family Guy. Anyway! PRAISE JEEBUS! PRAISE JEEEEEEBBBBUUUSSS...LoL Hated this chapter. Bleh. LoL That's all I have to say about that. Review, please! I mean, you know, actually review THIS chapter, instead of just READING it and then move onto the following two chapters. But thanks of course, though.)**


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Woo! Another update! LoL Review this, too, please! And enjoy!_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in November 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty Eight**

**Later On Wednesday, Economics**

You will _never_ guess what just happened!!

I can't _believe_ it!!

I don't _want_ to believe it!!

I don't even want it to be _reality!!_

Guess who's now stuck being Caleb's official English tutor??

ME!!!!

Why, oh _why????_

This is _not_ happening.

Of _all_ the people to have chosen, why did Ms. Wojick feel compelled to choose _me??_

Oh, I'll _tell_ you why. Because, according to _her_, I'm a "_natural_ when it comes to literary matters. And after hearing your response to yesterday's group question for the _Tuesdays With Morrie_ exercise it _confirmed_ it."

I was surprised when she said this to me, after she'd pulled me aside yet _again_ after class, and wished to discuss "something important" with me. I was mainly surprised because I didn't think she'd tuned into that supremely embarrassing speech of mine. Then again, if basically the entire class had heard it, I don't see why I'm perplexed that _Ms. Wojick _would have, as well.

Still.

Put a _paper bag_ over my head right about now.

I appreciate always having Ms. Wojick's encouragement and support, it seems, since it _does_ sort of serve to help boost my confidence a little. But yeah. _Still_ embarrassing, all this attention.

So please.

By all means. Still put that bag over my head.

The _only_ "plus side" was Ms. Wojick's not having included Caleb _within_ my "conference" with her, even though it'd concerned him. She just let him leave the class and immediately "pounced" on _me_ and asked me not to leave.

But it was because she'd already talked to him earlier today, and probably after she'd given back our journals that contained our latest writing assignment, who knows?

Oh, right. Forgot to mention that, at the start of the semester, Ms. Wojick had issued us journals in which to write down all of the special assignments she'd give to us. She likes to give us random topics, whether it be English-class related or even trite-worthy, and expects us to still write our responses out as eloquently as possible.

It's _her_ way, she says, to help us enhance our writing skills since, whatever we'll inevitably do within our lives, we'll still be required to express ourselves in _one_ way or another, and writing's usually one of the those.

But I say that's not necessarily true.

Not if you're a _mime_, anyway. There's no talking _or_ writing required in _that_ occupation. Just the use of your own body as the proverbial pen and paper. But I guess Ms. Wojick doesn't suspect any of us within her class has our heart set on one day painting our faces white and pretending to be desperately trapped within an invisible box while standing on the streets of New York City or Hollywood or wherever else.

Ah, well.

Anyhow, so Ms. Wojick issues out the journals and collects them at the beginning of each week, then usually grades and then returns them at the end of the same week before assigning a _new_ topic, blah blah.

And hopefully she'd see we've either improved, but if not, unfortunately slipped within our writing and attention to detail, based upon whatever she's written in our journals about said topic. Most of her comments for the crap _I've_ personally written have been positive, not to boast or anything. Although I _have_ had a few advice and critical critique-oriented comments left for me here and there.

Of course, recently, I've had them more often, I suppose because I technically have _two_ journals. You know, if you count _this_ one and all.

And ever since starting it (and especially in light of my princess business), I've _really_ been neglecting upon my "duties" to better detail my English journal (not to mention do a better job on all of my _other_ homework assignments, as well. But if you were in _my_ shoes, _you'd_ be the same way, too).

So you can imagine, for this reason as well, why I was surprised all the more that Wojick would wish to choose _me_ to be the one to help Caleb out.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, here. Let me just start with the beginning of our conversation.

Like I said, she'd asked me to stay behind, which I did. And once everyone had gone, she'd smiled at me and said, "Well! You're certainly looking more and more like a true princess everyday, Will. You look _very_ beautiful in your outfit -- Remind me to think of _you_ if ever I need fashion consultation."

I could only smile sheepishly and blush like mad at this. It's one thing to have a peer or crush or _someone_ like that compliment you in this way. But it's _far_ more mortifying to have an _adult_ -- Or _worse_, a _teacher_ do it.

And Ms. Wojick may be someone I honestly view more as a "friend" (or at least closer to a peer than my teacher), true, but she's _still_ my teacher, regardless.

So yeah.

EM-BARR-ASS-ING.

Ha. I wrote "ass."

Sorry. Losing focus here, since I'm so _painfully_ tired, and just realized that I won't get to take that lovely nap I'd planned on after school because duty comes first . . . (kinda) sadly.

Anyhow.

So since I'm just standing there, blushing my _butt_ off and not saying a word, Ms. Wojick just chuckled softly at the sight and jumped right to the point.

"Will, I'd like to ask you for a favor, although I'm pretty sure you're now _exceedingly_ busy," she began, moving from behind her desk to stand before me more properly.

When I still didn't say anything, she continued on.

"Yes. You see, one of your fellow classmates has lately been suffering a bit within their writing and, most recently, their poetry. Well, truthfully, their poetry isn't so bad -- Nor is their writing on the whole, of course. It's more so like they've seemed to have just lost their inspiration or drive. . . . And this, of course, both saddens and concerns me, as this person is normally on the ball with what they write and express."

At this, I bothered to say something, since it obviously sounded as though she was aiming for me to assist this individual with their sudden literary impotency . . . which wasn't going to fly with me because, like she'd said, I'm too busy for that.

_And_ sleepy.

Although, _that_ fact was neither permanent nor relevant to the matter.

"Oh . . . uh . . . that's . . . that's sad and all, for real, Ms. Wojick, but it's like you'd pointed out -- I don't really have the time so much anymore," I reiterated, this time verbally to the caramel haired, older woman continually smiling at me.

She shook her head and raised a hand towards me.

"I know, Will, I know. But I was _also_ really hoping that you'd do this for me as a favor like I said," she responded, lightly cocking her head to the side. "I mean, I truly believe that you're _natural_ when it comes to literary matters. And after hearing your response to yesterday's group question for the _Tuesdays With Morrie_ exercise it confirmed it."

See? There goes that natural talent thing.

"And I _also_ believe that this person will be able to take away something from the experience of getting your personal insight on their writing -- _And_ I think that _you_ might get something out of it, as well."

I held back a frustrated sigh. Frustrated, because she was basically painting me into a corner, _and_ because she's also someone I respect.

I knew I was about to say yes.

Sure enough. . . .

". . . All right . . . I . . . _guess_ I can at _least_ give it a shot, Ms. Wojick. . . . But who's the person?"

Cheerfully broadening her simper, that's when Ms. Wojick dropped the bomb on me.

"Hmm? Oh! The person I'd like for you to help, Will, is Caleb."

I could honestly feel all of the color drain away from my face, immediately rushing to my _heart_ to help make it beat _excessively_ fast as I began to feel it do right then.

I couldn't believe it.

CALEB????

Of _all_ the people??

There are like, at _least_ a handful of others in my class whom I know for _fact_ need all the help they can _get_ in surviving with something higher than an _F_ (which I could never understand. People -- American-born people, I mean, who can fail English. I mean, they _speak_ English -- As a _first_ language too, for crying out loud. It's not very hard to crack open a book that's assigned by a teacher and read it. Well, I mean. I suppose it kind of is if that book happens to be _nine thousand pages_ long and _monstrously_ boring. But still. GET with the program, people)!

And even though it was people I didn't really know or _cared_ to and vice versa, I'm sure, I would have _gladly_ tutored any of _them,_ instead!

I guess I must have looked extra sick or something, because Ms Wojick suddenly asks in concern, "Will? Are you all right?"

To which I replied, "Uh . . . _yeah_, Ms. Wojick. . . . But, um . . . w-wouldn't you rather have someone like Eugene Corwin tutor Caleb instead of me? I mean, because Eugene's like, the smartest kid in the class and _always_ has the right answers and stuff. Plus, isn't _Caleb_ one of the better students, as well, with mostly A's and stuff as his usually received grade?"

I was in desperate mode. I was throwing every curve ball of both rationale _and_ excuse I could think of at her right then.

_Anything_ to get out of being Caleb's private teacher or whatever.

That would only spell _disaster_ for my still agonizingly wounded and tender heart. But Ms. Wojick didn't seem very sympathetic to my plight (or _could_, really, seeing as no one but Matt and _God_ know I loved Caleb).

"True, Eugene _is_ pretty smart, and would make a very good choice to be the one I'd ask to help Caleb with his recent writing troubles. And _yes_, Caleb traditionally _does_ also receive B's and A's on his assignments -- Much like _you_ do, Will. But I've _asked_ you, _not_ Eugene, to help because I believe that _you'll_ give your input on anything Caleb will write in the future a more personal touch and understanding a bit more than Eugene could," she said, moving forward to rest her hands upon my shoulders. "And I have _faith_ in you, remember? And if it will motivate you further, I'll even give you ten points extra credit _automatically_ on whatever future assignment of your choosing. How's _that_ sound?"

_Very_ cool.

If only this were a class I could desperately use these freebie points, though.

Still, with a small, defeated sigh, I slowly nodded in consent, forcing a smile upon my face before Ms. Wojick might have gotten suspicious over my secret reasons for wishing to bail on this new endeavor.

"Great! Thanks so _much_, Will! I _know_ you'll do a fantastic job! And you can e-mail me for pointers, too, if you need to!" Ms. Wojick said with a grin, dropping her hands away from my shoulders.

As I was about to leave, moving towards the door, I stopped when I'd realized something.

Does Caleb even _know_ about all this? And if _so_, is he _okay_ with getting help for his writing, or is he _insulted_ and feels like his pride or whatever typical male flaws and tendencies are being compromised?

If he _didn't_ know, _I_ certainly wasn't going to telll him.

_Hell_, no.

So I'd turned back around and asked Ms. Wojick this.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Yes, of course Caleb knows about it. I'd discussed it with him before class had begun. So no worries on that, all right?"

Yeah, sure. No _worries_.

I'm working _overtime_ with that mentality, lady!

And no _wonder_ I kept catching him looking at me in the corner of my eye while I was writing my previous entry. I was finding it to be a bit irritating as _well_ as disconcerting, since I just figured he was doing that because he was thinking how idiotic I look in my attire or the whole Cornelia blow up thing or something.

But I guess _now_ it's because he was _really_ thinking up ways to plot his _revenge_ on me for having to be the one to tutor him now.

And as an ex-Rebel Leader and professionally trained and skilled combatant, I'm sure there's _only_ one hundred ways he could exact his vengeance upon me.

But it isn't my _fault! _It _isn't! _

I mean, yeah. I _know_ I'd used to be the first to always wish for crap like this to happen in the past, so he could notice me and whatever, but _now_ I've quit that, cold turkey.

Ugh. _So_ unfair. This is going to be so _unbelievably_ doomsday-worthy.

And again, I say, like my life needs any further assistance in being just that.

**-- End of Chapter Thirty Eight**

**(A.N. YAY! This chapter, I like better, not cuz of the length, but because it was easier for me and it treated you guys to more Will/Caleb drama. LoL Review, please!)**


	39. Chapter Thirty Nine

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Betcha you love me, now, huh? All these updates. LoL_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in November 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty Nine**

**Later On Wednesday, Math**

What the _hell_ was Ms. Wojick _thinking??_ I mean, _seriously_. I'm _seriously_ posing this question and desperately seeking an answer.

Why would she _possibly_ believe that _I_, of _all_ people, would be best suited to help Caleb "improve" upon his writing and poetry?

She said it, _herself!_ Eugene _is_ the best one in the class! I should _totally_ track him down some time before my first tutoring session, or whatever you want to call it, with Caleb and _bribe_ him or something to take on the task for me.

I mean, after all. Being a princess and this popular as _well_ as wealthy _has_ to be good for _something_, right?

Never thought I'd _ever_ hear myself say that. _Or_ painstakingly desire to be _away_ from Caleb.

But _seriously!!_

What _was_ she thinking??

I don't _care_ if I'm apparently "a natural" in writing! So is _Caleb_, too, if I'm not mistaken!!

But what could I _possibly_ teach him?? I'm _barely_ "grand" at poetry, _myself!_ Not to _mention_ that I _still_ have no clue what to write for my damned "I Am" poem!

And _she_ wants _me_ to help Caleb with _his_ literary issues??

Oh, WHY am I continually thrust within situations where I'm required to not only converse with the ex-Rebel Leader, but kind of be _alone_ with him, as well, all of a sudden??

It seriously, _honestly_ isn't fair, I'm telling you that right now.

I'M TRYING TO GET OVER THIS GUY AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, DAMN IT!!!!

And _now_, he's probably freaking pissed off _beyond_ belief that I'm going to instruct him, too.

Just what I need. _More_ aggression and aggravation against me, courtesy of Caleb.

Perfect timing, right? Right when the girls and I plan on taking a trip to Meridian after school. Well, that's still at least just the game plan, anyway. But I'm sure it'll happen and everyone will agree to go. Well, hopefully everyone. Assuming Cornelia's calmed down by now, and realizes that this _is_ about her best friend _and_ the future welfare of said friend's beloved kingdom.

Hopefully the others would have convinced her to stick around and wait for me.

And if Miss Cornelia _doesn't? _Then no one can say I didn't try, right? You know, that I'd finally fully confessed about my secret trip to Metamoor.

Just sucks that _Caleb_ will naturally wish to come with. . . .

Oh. Matt's wagging his pencil around in the air, I can see in the corner of my eye, to signal me to pay attention to class.

Yeah, yeah, _yeah_. I know. I'd _better_, if I don't want my grade to drop down into the impossible _negatives_.

And with _me?_ That's actually _quite_ possible.

Sigh. Just _yesterday_, it felt like, I was writing about how my grade wasn't _that_ bad within this class.

Know what Guardian secondary power I wish I had right about now? Well, not really _Guardian_-related power, but power, period? Er, ability? Or even "_Princess_ ability," since _I'm_ a princess and the individual who luckily possesses this gift is _also_ a fellow blue blood?

The ability to absorb Cousin Roice's blippin' _eidetic memory_.

Because _then_ I could honestly B.S. my way through this idiotic math class, especially, and not _have_ to worry about studying. Just would only have to pay attention to the lessons and _voilà!_

Instant A's, _every_ time!

Ah, well. Sucks to be _me_.

_As_ always.

**-- End of Chapter Thirty Nine**

**(A.N. Waaaaaaaaaahhhh...Hi. LoL Dunno why I just did that. I'm okay. LoL Anyway! Yay! Finally more Caleb and Will drama, as I'd said before, AND Guardian integration! TOLD ya I'd do it eventually. That's gonna be fun...Not really. LoL But we'll see if how it's always been in my head all this time will honestly pan out well once written down. AND if you'll all receive it well. Hope so! BOOM! LoL Sorry again. Ate a bunch of Belgium chocolate while writing this chapter. LoL Later!)**


	40. Chapter Forty Part One

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Welcome to my Hell!! By that, I mean, reading this VERY long, THE longest chapter EVER in the history of posting stories on here!! It was easy to write it all out, but it was the editing and finding time TO edit that was hard. I got REALLY busy in the last six months. Can't believe it's been half a year since I've updated this. Woo...LoL_

_Miss me? I know you did, don't lie. LoL Well, this story, anyway. LoL Do me a fave and don't tell me anything I might have missed in the editing or didn't make sense, because forty-six pages is a LOT to deal with, lemme tell ya. I'll go back someday again and fix it. But just deal with it for now. LoL_

_And enjoy, the long awaited chapter forty!!_

This chapter was created/written in November 2007.

**Chapter Forty**

**Thursday, November 9th, 2:25 am,**

"**My Bedroom" Inside of the Presidential Suite of the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel **

"Princess Will!! I _love_ you! _Please!_ Let me take a picture with you! Oh, my God! _Please!_"

That was just a small taste of what I'd experienced this afternoon after school. Then again, it's what I experience _everyday_, really, so it wasn't much of a change. . . .

And _speaking_ of after school today, it was _profusely_ hectic -- More than usual, it seemed like.

I'm talking gargantuan level, here.

Super, right?

I mean, it were as though everyone _knew_ that I had a big otherworldly mission to fulfill, the way they swarmed around me at _overtime_ and slowed me down when me and Matt got out of our last class and tried walking down the hallway with Ernest and Nova in tow.

And that, of course, pissed Cornelia right off more than it did or _should_ have for myself, needless to say.

Oh. Bleh. Let me start over, again. I'm doing that jumping around thing again. It'd figure, though, because I'm still running on empty, here. Is this what my life is meant to be, now? To remain a walking zombie for all of eternity?

Ah, alas Will . . . we barely knew thee. . . .

Anyway! Space out moment, again. Hey. Is it possible to get drunk off of a lack of sleep? Because that's how I've felt all day, I'm that tired.

So sad.

Anyhow, continuing on.

So, it's after school like I said, and I'm hoping that _all_ of the girls will meet up with me to Fold over to the Meridian Palace. I was, of course, still holding onto the dream, as futile as it was to do so, that this venture would occur without _Caleb's_ presence.

But, sadly, it was to no avail, kiddies, because he was the first one there when Matt and I arrived into the courtyard I had asked everyone to gather into (and was thankfully empty and would continue to be, since I'd instructed both Ernest and Nova to guard the entrance for me, as unfair as that was to anyone else who might have wished to enter. At least that's _one_ perk to having bodyguards, I'd say).

Sometimes, you know, I just really wish that Caleb would be just a little less dedicated to his homeland. It certainly would make _my_ life a whole lot easier, for sure. And then, he has to go and give me yet _another_ "Devil Look," as I'm now calling them, once he'd caught sight of me entering, probably wishing that he possessed his _own_ magical powers, in order to cast a spell on me and make me vanish or something.

I was so very tempted to take that as an opportunity to tell him off, as well as let him know to his face that I flat out never wanted to be his new English tutor, and that I'd tried and still _am_ trying my very best to get someone _else_ to take my place.

But I doubt he'd care even _if_ I'd bothered to say all this.

He'll probably just tell his _wonderful girlfriend_ on me, and then _she'll_ have a word or two to say to me about the matter, like, "How could _anyone_ possibly think that _you'd_ be useful as a tutor? You'll just do more _harm_ than _good_ to my _genius_ boyfriend!!"

And sadly, I'd actually be inclined to _agree_ with her, to tell the truth.

Hey! Brainstorm! _That's_ what I'll do! I'll totally just have _Cornelia_ speak upon my behalf to Ms. Wojick, and let _her_ go to town on how lousy I really am!

. . . . Wait. I can't believe I just said that.

Ugh. I _am_ such a loser. No _wonder_ I'm still single.

_Anyway_, even though I had Matt there with me, I was silently praying that the rest of the party would arrive very soon, so that I wouldn't have to chance a conversation with Caleb. However, even while dear Matthew had taken over for me in that regard (bless his kind soul), I could still see, within the corner of my eye, the slightly taller brunet looking at me with his Stink Eye.

God!! Give me a break, okay?? Stop hating on me, dude!! _Seriously!!_ Because it's making me lose my _mind_ at how much I wish to _strangle_ you, because I love to hate you and yet hate to unfortunately still _love_ you!!

_Men_. Grr. . . .

Finally, though, the girls started filtering into the courtyard with Ernest and Nova's approval, which made me exhale in profound relief, because I could then use one or all of them to distract me from the vain of my existence still being chatted up by Matt.

"Hey, you guys. Thanks a lot for being able to meet with me to go . . . _you_ know," I said as soon as the other Guardians were close enough, smiling sheepishly. That's when I'd realized that someone was missing.

Three guesses as to whom.

I was about to ask where Cornelia was, and what could have possibly been her reason for apparently deciding not to show (even though it was pretty obvious), when Matt suddenly goes, "Aaannd, _that_ would be my cue! I'll do _my_ part to hold down the fort here, just in case your uncle or mom go sniffing around, again. Of course, it still doesn't really hold much worth quite yet -- My word, I mean. Not after our _magical_ night out together. But I'll still do my best, anyway."

I couldn't help but to instantly blush at that, _especially_ at the way everyone looked at me in surprise and suspicion. Well, not really. That is, Irma smirked and raised an eyebrow, in evident curiosity as to the extent of what Matt and I had done together during our dual visit to Meridian, while Hay Lin giggled teasingly at me.

Taranee, having been the first to have heard the precise details of the trip, merely nudged Hay Lin's side lightly to cease her laughter. And as for Mr. Virgilio, I didn't even want to witness what _his_ look might have been . . . most likely one of his demoralizing gazes that just makes you want to vanish, all because his opinions actually matters to you.

Thankfully, though, Matt had been in my way and obscuring my view.

Yay.

Awkwardly clearing my throat, I slowly reached out and rested a hand upon Matt's arm as I bit down upon my lip gloss covered bottom lip before speaking.

"Uh . . . t-thanks for that, Shaggy -- I _owe_ you one," I remarked the double entendre as sweetly as I could, briefly narrowing my eyes at Matt's greatly amused facial expression.

"Don't you _always_, Kermit?" he replied with a question, winking in continued humor at the situation before squeezing my arm in affection. "_Anyway!_ Ladies -- and _Caleb_ -- good luck on whatever you're gonna accomplish, and what you do or don't find -- Hopefully nothing bad! Oh, yeah! And tell Ellie I said hi!"

After we'd all waved goodbye to Matt and he began to leave, I could then suddenly hear Caleb ask, in honest surprise, "So . . . wait. _You're_ not coming along?"

Why was Caleb so surprised for in the first place, when Matt had basically illustrated to a T that no, he would _not_ be coming with us, based upon all he'd said before?

Geez, man. Keep up.

It was funny, too, because it's exactly what Matt had ended up saying, too. Well, not the "keep up" part, but the reflection I'd made about it having been made obvious that he wouldn't be going with.

"Uhhh, nope! Not _this_ time, anyway -- Practice with the band," Matt replied with a smile, not bothering to turn back around. "Besides, I thought that was made pretty clear from what I was saying just a few seconds ago, though. But, anyway, later, dude!"

See? Told you.

I couldn't help but to lightly giggle at the taken aback look Caleb had then plastered onto his face and shot towards Matt's back, watching him jog out of the courtyard, and then bestow a saluting gesture onto both Nova and Ernest (which was just as humorous, because I could see them sharing the same perplexed expression as they did when Irma had been just as "atypical" with them the other day at lunch).

I mean, come on. It was your _own_ fault for not paying better attention, buddy.

It was refreshing to see someone _else_ be embarrassed for a change, not to mention feeling a bit vindicated seeing Caleb blush like that, since, as I already said, he was making me feel uncomfortable ever since arriving inside of the courtyard.

So, _ha_. Check, and mate.

"Sooo . . . now that _that_ . . . 'verbal foreplay' display is behind us -- Something I'll have to tease and taunt you about at greater length later on -- care to explain to the _rest_ of us why you went with little Mattie to Meridian?" Irma asked with a broadening, mischievous grin, batting her long eyelashes at me to feign innocence. "I mean, the guy doesn't have any powers to speak of -- None that we're aware of, anyway. So, again, why _didn't_ you bring one or all of us along?"

Before I could scold Irma for making her extremely incorrect, extremely _mortifying_ comment, Hay Lin, with yet another giggle, goes, "_Irma!_ You already _are_ teasing! Stop it! And anyway, don't you remember? Taranee had already told me, you, and Cornelia the entire story via mental message! You obviously were zoning out again in Health class at the time."

Irma nodded slowly at this, turquoise eyes narrowing in recollection and rosy lips puckering before responding.

"Hmmm . . . oh _yeah!_ That must have been it, yeah, 'cause honestly that whole class was relatively a _blur_, now that I'm thinking about it. Like I really want to listen to a lecture all about 'the importance of better personal hygiene,' from a man who _obviously_ doesn't take much stock into the concept for himself -- Ya know, given that he seriously smells like _Gorgonzola cheese_ all the time."

All of us, including Caleb, instantly wrinkled our noses in both reflection as well as disgust. Sad to say, but Irma was right about that. I mean, even if you've never had the guy as a teacher, or knew who he was, you could still get easily grossed out if you've ever smelled the stew like, or puree-of-old-gym-sock-and-rancid-garbage-morning-breath aroma that this particular Fromage is infamous for giving off.

Because _that_, dear journal, is what Mr. Patton Melville essentially smells like.

And even though she knew this to be true, Taranee apparently felt it necessary to defend the poor man, anyhow, because she's all, "_Hey_, now. Mr. Melville isn't _so_ bad! Well, I mean, his . . . olfactory property, as it were, _was_ pretty bad, I'm not gonna lie. But _I'd_ always found his lectures to be quite interesting."

Typical Taranee comment or answer. If it's about school, she'll always have something positive to say. Well, majority of the time, anyhow.

But, at least she's speaking more and _sounding_ more like herself, instead of staying silent.

Woo-hoo!

I heard Irma groaning dramatically then, bringing me out of my silent reverie.

"_Ugh_. Says the avid bookworm who'd _wanted_ to take Health class during her sophomore year -- Just like when she'd gotten rid of her extra gym class ahead of time, as well -- instead of being lazy like the _rest_ of us and take it later on . . . like say, I don't know, _senior_ year?? You've _a lot_ more to learn in the ways of _true_ procrastination, my young grasshopper."

Hay Lin and I chuckled at the spectacle, before the former offered, "Yeah, but _you_ could certainly learn tips from Taranee, yourself, Irma, on how to be a bit more _studious_ like she is. I mean, _look_ at her! She's been so overworked, with all of her super smart classes, that she's barely spent much time with Nigel lately -- Not to mention that she's been fantastically stressed, of course," she delivered sympathetically with a gentle pat upon the ebony haired Fire Guardian, whose brown eyes I'd caught curiously darkening a bit. "True signs of a true _student_, right, Taranee?"

I found that odd. I mean, I know I already thought before that maybe she was having issues with Nigel, especially since Hay Lin's right: they haven't been seen together for a couple of weeks now. But I _did_ ask if everything and everyone was all right within her life after lunch just the other day and Taranee had said yes, so . . .

But again, maybe I'm just making a mountain out of a molehill. I _am_ practically an expert at that.

"W-well, _actually_, I --" the intellectual girl in question began quietly, interrupting my thoughts, before Irma promptly did the same for her.

"-- That's the _dumbest_ thing I've ever heard you say, Hay, and you've said some _doozies_ back in our day. That's _precisely_ why I take the _minimally_ required classes to graduate, and then take the classes that are _fun_ as electives. _Because_ they're fun and less stressful!" the brunette gloated with a matter-of-fact air, engaging the silent ex-Rebel Leader by suddenly slapping him square across his back with a grin. "'More studious.' You've gotta be out of your freaking _mind!_"

The petite Air Guardian smiled sheepishly in affect, all of us watching Caleb rub his now sore back with distinct indignation and a scowl before she spoke.

"Well, I just meant --"

"-- Uh, guys? As riveting as this conversation has been, no doubt, do you think we can seriously stop talking about it for a sec and focus upon the task at hand?" I decided to interject, feeling a bit impatient that Cornelia still hadn't arrived after all that time, as well as feeling my sleepiness returning tenfold. I needed swift action of some sort to better keep me stimulated and awake. "That is, once Cornelia gets here, we can get on with things. . . . She _is_ coming, right? I mean, I would think and hope so, considering this is about her best friend. Caleb . . . did _you_ talk to her before coming over?"

I hated to ask him that. I really did. I didn't ever want to know anything about Caleb talking to and hanging out with Cornelia, or Cornelia talking to and hanging out with Caleb, even if I'm well aware that it's what they regularly do as a couple.

And like I said in the last entry, being that she'd left the cafeteria in such a huff during lunch earlier today, and her faithful and loyal boyfriend went to console her for things I cannot control, no doubt, it was nearly all I could take.

But, unfortunately, I had no other choice.

Caleb cleared his throat, his previous frown dissipating, before a bright rouge curiously began to flush his tawny cheeks and spread to his ears.

". . . Yeah, I did . . . before eighth period. . . ." he replied, clearing his throat once again as though for emphasis. I didn't understand what was so embarrassing about my inquiry. It was a simple and basic question, after all.

Unless . . . _ick_. I totally get it now. The two lovebirds most likely _made out_ "before eighth period." So, of _course_ he'd feel a bit on the spot to have the memory brought up like that.

Just rip out my heart, please. Seriously.

This response didn't seem to satisfy Irma, though, because she folds her arms across her chest while giving him a knowing look and goes, ". . . _And?_ Don't be shy in telling the rest of the class where 'Princess Runner-Up' is, Lover Boy!"

"I'm right _here_, Irma -- _God!_ Didn't mean to keep Her Royal Highness and her court waiting, but Heaven _Forbid_ I'd need to go pick up the teacher's recommendation form that I gave to my Geography professor, after asking her to fill it out for me," I could hear Cornelia suddenly chime in with perfect precision, as Irma, Hay Lin and I turned around to watch the still clearly irritable blonde stalk over from behind us. "_You_ know, to increase my chances of being further noticed by my college of choice. But I don't suppose you'd understand that, considering the only college _you'll_ end up getting into is _Clown_ College -- Assuming you even remember what a college _is_."

The rest of us (not including Cornelia and Irma, obviously) all let out collective exhalations at this, because we knew what was about to occur right then:

Round Seventy-five _thousand_ within the ongoing match between the Earth and Water Guardians.

Sure enough, with a sharp glare and tightened simper, Irma was swift to retaliate, taking Cornelia's bait.

"But, of _course_ I do, dear! It's where the _normal_ people go to further their education, while the uptight, sticks-_eternally_-up-their-_ass_ people, such as a certain person I will not name -- go to further fuel their large egos over how they seem to believe that they're better than everyone _else!_"

Insert yet another unanimous sigh here, because that was all Irma needed to say to the apoplectic, fair haired Guardian, before having the girl erupt like a massive volcano (which sometimes makes me wonder if _she_ shouldn't have been chosen to be the new Fire Guardian in place of Taranee, given that Cornelia's temper is more frequent and swift than the other girl's).

Cornelia gritted her teeth tightly as her ice blue eyes injected pure venom straight into Irma's bemused cyan, mysteriously cradling her stomach with one hand while making a tight, balled up fist with her other.

"_Excuse_ me?! I --"

"-- Wow! _Okay!_ Can we _please_ calm down, now?" I promptly interrupted, no longer able to stomach any more of the ongoing drama, although I was well aware that doing so would further invoke Cornelia's rage upon _myself_. "If we're gonna do this, we're already losing too much time."

Surprisingly, Caleb readily agreed with me. I mean, not to say that he's lenient for such antics most of the time, but I figure that since the protesting had been coming from me, he might get defensive over my reprimanding his woman.

Regardless, he moves over to Cornelia's darkened stance, gently strokes her hair (Kill me, please) and goes, "Yeah . . . Cornelia . . . it's okay. Irma was only joking, as always. You know that. . . ."

Irma's face was funny, the way she then gazed upon the sole male present as though she hadn't even been aware he was talking in the first place, both of her perfectly waxed eyebrows raised as high as possible while her eyes buffed out of their sockets in affect.

"_Huh??_ Ummmmm . . . no?? I really _wasn't_, and --"

"-- It doesn't _matter!_ What _does_ matter, is the fact that Queen Elyon may need help protecting her kingdom, so we'd better get going! _Please!_" Caleb delivered shortly, effortlessly cutting off the caramel haired Water Guardian in the process, about which she did nothing to remedy because she was most likely as taken aback by the guy's uncharacteristic outburst as the rest of us.

Well, _I_ was, anyway. Never seen him so riled up before. But then again, it does have to do with his beloved homeland, so I guess I can understand.

Still. As much I do still love the guy, unhappily so, I'd like to see him try that with me. Especially not today, with my very low tolerance for . . . well, _everything_.

"Caleb is right, you guys. We have lost precious time hanging around here, arguing over nothing," Taranee concurred, taking off her glasses with one hand, and gently pinching the bridge of her nose with the other. "Let's just Fold to Meridian as planned, and --"

"-- Well, we'd never _be_ so time pressed in the _first_ place, Taranee, if _Will_ hadn't decided to be _selfish_ and make a wrong choice -- _Yet_ again -- in regards to my best friend's overall well being and future!!"

There it is, ladies and gentlemen.

I was wondering when Cornelia was going to play that guilt trip trump card, the same one she'd used, as she'd just made reference to, when all of us had first discovered that Elyon was the lost Princess of Metamoor and I'd made the unanimous decision not to inform her of this quite yet.

Hey. I _had _been younger and a bit more wet behind the ears at the time, so sue me. I was only looking out for the Queen's best interests, you know? I mean, it's not everyday you're told you're the future monarch of an entire kingdom -- Otherworldly, or not.

And I should know.

Nevertheless, even though all of that drama has been put behind us, I've always known that, deep down, Cornelia has never really forgiven me for my hapless choice, and the aftermath that had followed (also known as, having to constantly be on the run from our former friend, who was at the time always trying to obliterate us just as much as her psycho brother. But you already know all that).

And as much as that bit of knowledge has always admittedly bothered me some, I had also always understood.

Right now, however, not so much. I knew Cornelia was only doing this mainly because of her painfully obvious jealousy to my being a patrician, and she only ever will be in her dreams, looks like.

I was a second away from blowing my top again, when Hay Lin beats me to it (well, in speaking, anyway) and says, "Cornelia, that's _not_ fair to the Princess! She wasn't as experienced a leader as she is now, and only wanted to protect Elyon by keeping her in the dark about who she really was just a bit longer!" she defended, a light frown gathering itself onto her saffron hued complexion. "And as for the reasons behind _this_ time -- I mean, for keeping things from all of us -- She hadn't meant any harm, either. Everything was just too overwhelming for her, from what I could gather. And _anyway_, Will _did_ say that all of this worrying, according to Elyon, was probably over nothing but a rumor; but it was Will who set all of this up so we could all go investigate, regardless!"

Woo. I think it's safe to say I should never get on Hay Lin's bad side, either, right? What got into her, anyway? I mean, it was all true, what she'd said, and I was more or less about to say so, myself.

But still. Yikes.

Blug. (Yeah, that's right. I said "blug." It's like "ugh," but better) This whole day has _everyone_ acting a bit differently than how they should or normally do, I swear.

Must be something in the air . . . or, inside of the cafeteria food, for sure. In either case, this is an evil, _evil_ day.

But, anyway. Finally, all of us were on the move after that.

It was no easy trip, though, since there were still the kids who'd decided or had to stay after school to deal with. But at least there were less of them, and thus less for Ernest and Nova to keep at bay, making them quite the useful bumpers this time around.

Now this part, I gotta say, was very, very, _very_ embarrassing. Why? Because I was forced to invite the Guardians and Caleb into my limousine that was waiting for all of us in the front of the school.

I know what you're thinking, too: Why _drive_, when it is neither needed nor required to Fold, well, anywhere and at anytime? I know this (duh). But we couldn't obviously do that, since we still had to ditch "Curly and Moe" somehow (which wasn't going to be as easy as the other times in the past, because Ernest, at least, now knows firsthand of how much of a shyster I can be).

But do not fret, because I'd thought of all that ahead of time, and ran it by 'Ranee to run by everyone _else,_ so that they'd play along and not draw suspicion from my ever-listening armed attendants.

But, whatever.

Here's how it all went down:

Me: _(Trying desperately to both hide my inflamed cheeks, as well as ignore as many "royal fans" that were hooting and hollering towards our direction) _Uh . . . I guess -- That is, if it's cool with _you_ guys -- we can all climb into my limo -- W-well, not _my_ limo, not like that, I mean -- so we won't have to risk getting lost or left behind by this mob if you take your own cars instead. . . .

Taranee: _(Nodding in natural agreement, not really due to "the plan," but mainly because she would have had to either walk home, or take the bus that's already left by now, since, like I said, she hates to drive, herself)_ Right. Good idea.

Irma:_ (Clearly picking up upon the same thought that I was having right then, taking the lead of our pack while Cornelia and Caleb, sickly holding hands, distinctly trailed behind)_ Of _course_ it is to _you_, T! You avoid driving like the _plague_. As for _me_ -- Can't get enough! _But!_ I'm _also_ definitely not turning down a cruise in a limo! That's why I can't wait 'till Senior Prom! Can we say giant Hummer limo, anyone?

Hay Lin: _(Giggling excitedly next to her best friend while linking arms with her, her cheerful nature having returned) Yeah!_ My gown's gonna be another 'Hay Lin Original,' of course! Can't _wait_ to see Eric's face once he sees me in it! And _speaking_ of dates, maybe _you_ can invite Eddie along, huh, Irma??

Both Irma and I stopped dead in our tracks upon hearing this.

Irma, I'm quite sure (and she later confirmed, I will get to in a couple minutes), because of her ongoing denial to having feelings for Eddie.

But _I_ stopped, because I just realized something:

Senior Prom is finally here, later this coming May, and I will be _dateless_.

How could I have possibly forgotten about prom?? Me and the girls have been waiting for and talking about it since middle school! And since I was sick with the flu last year and didn't get to go to my Junior Prom, this one's _extra_ important to me.

But I mean, it won't be any fun since the only one I'd _want_ to go with will be going with you-know-who, and I _highly_ doubt anyone will ask me.

Okay. So I'm sure _someone_ will, a lot of people, actually, but only because of my celebrity status.

And what a ruckus _that_ will be when I go . . . cameramen and news crews everywhere.

Maybe I _shouldn't_ go, yet again . . . .

Sigh.

Even though by then I won't be an official princess anymore like Eli promised (if all goes according to plan, anyway), I'm _still_ going to be prisoner of my title, nonetheless.

This blows.

Anyway. Back to my "Lazy Mode" for the limo ride.

Irma:_ (Rolls her eyes Heavenward, turning to glare at the shorter girl, then to everyone else, her cheeks flushed with abashment)_ Get _over_ it, people! Since when is my love life _such_ the hot topic? Okay, well, when and if _I_ don't make it one, myself, anyway? For the _last_ time! Edwin Benoni is _not_ for me!

Cornelia: _(Mimics Irma's actions by rolling her own eyes as she passed with a wary looking Caleb, clearly pissed off all over again, about this current topic, as well as the fact she's gotta go inside of a limo that isn't hers)_ _Whatever_, Irma! Just . . . _move_ over when you climb inside here. . . .

Needless to say, it was a _very_ awkward trip to our destination, what with Irma being momentarily moody over the whole Eddie issue and Cornelia's attacking her for it (which made her upset all the _more_, I could tell, because this hang up was temporarily preventing her from enjoying the lavish ride and interior of the stretch limo); Cornelia being, well, _Cornelia_ and folding and re-folding her arms across her chest at her place next to her boyfriend's, while exhaling excessively; and Caleb being his usual silent, but thoughtful self, although his green eyes were reflecting (when I bothered to take random chances to secretly look within his direction in the corner of my eye) something different.

Nervousness? I couldn't really tell you, but I imagine it could have been. I mean, Caleb doesn't exactly strike me as the fancy-shmancy type, after all, and being in a limousine, when it isn't your wedding day or some other special occasion as that, _is_ as fancy as it comes (and again, being that I wasn't in the limo with the gang for last year's prom, like I said, I don't know how he felt about being inside one then).

The rest of us, however, Taranee, Hay Lin and I, that is, made idle chit chat while Ernest and Nova sat next to one another in their usual, observant silence.

No, scratch that. Taranee and Hay Lin made idle chit chat the most, with me chiming in on and off. I was too busy being distracted with the thick blanket of overwhelming discomfort that effortlessly enveloped me the entire time.

Even if everyone had been blabbing on and on all at once with happiness, I still would've felt the same way, because now both worlds (that of my friends and this whole royalty deal, that is) were colliding in an even more personal manner . . . and I wasn't quite sure yet if I was all right with that.

After twenty-five minutes of enduring the remainder of the shared ride with my fellow Guardians and the man who constantly tugged upon my heartstrings without ever realizing, the limo driver finally slowed down and pulled over in front of our destination.

What was it? The Heatherfield Public Library, where the rest of my plan to shake Ernest and Nova would unfold. After filtering out of the vehicle (with Cornelia readily the first to do so, of course), we all made a beeline for the library's main entrance as swiftly as possible, because of the increasingly irritating paparazzi (who must have followed behind the entire ride) who were frantically flashing the bulbs of their cameras to take photograph after photograph of me.

"So . . . what now? Should we go find an empty table to do our homework and oh so important book reports for school?" Hay Lin asked with a bit _too_ much vibrato once we got inside, sounding like she was reading from a script. I know that she was only reciting the lie aloud as instructed, so that my bodyguards would listen in and could later inform their King in case he'd call or _whatever_ while me and the gang were away in Meridian, but still.

Someone should definitely tell her that it's a good thing her future is better secured in art and design, than in _performing_ arts.

Unable to contain her laughter at the display, Irma, having since gotten over her brief sour attitude from earlier, snickered lightly while giving the raven haired girl a playful noogie.

"Oh, yes, of _course_, dearest Hay Lin! We must've delay upon remaining on top of our studies! To the tables!" she remarked just as staged and loudly as Hay Lin in obvious jest, causing the random inhabitants of the thankfully not too packed library (which would bode well for the overall execution to go more swimmingly) to look up from their business and upon us in indignant curiosity (and naturally so, given that we were being too loud, and this _is_ a library, after all).

But, at least none of _them_ (who were mainly college-aged and a bit older, it looked like) instantly turned gaga to see "a real life princess in our midst!" like everyone else back at school.

And for that reason alone, I could have stayed inside that library forever. Well, maybe not forever, but at least it seems as though I've found a new hiding spot for some downtime whenever I'm in public from now on.

"_Shh!!_" the young librarian stationed at the front desk hissed within our direction and jolting me out of my observant reflection, his irritated gray eyes peering over at the eight of us over his black, square shaped eyeglasses.

Blushing as an automatic response to the extra unwanted attention (as well as being reprimanded by a dude who looked like he was _only_ four years older than I was), I merely cleared my throated softly and motioned for everyone to follow me, as I led the way to whatever empty table that I could find . . . hopefully one that would be within the far back.

And as luck would have it (and shockingly so), I did. Even better, it was upstairs, an area that was mostly empty, to boot. So now, when the girls, Caleb and I would perform our vanishing act, no one else from downstairs would have noticed, regardless.

All that was left, though, was our last detail. And that's where Irma would come in.

"Let's go look for the reference books we'll need for our reports, okay, you guys?" Taranee suggested with a small smile, nodding knowingly at all of us before leaving the table with her backpack on her chosen seat.

"Sure, thing, 'Ranee. Ernest, Nova, I'll be right back . . . so, you know, you don't have to follow me and stuff," I said with a bite of my lip, hoping the two of them were continuing to remain in the dark about everything. It seemed that way, at least, because they merely nodded in both approval and understanding and stayed by the table, sunglasses concealing their eyes (as always) and hands clutched together in front of them within their usual stance whenever standing around and . . . well, guarding.

Setting down our own belongings, we made our way into the nearest book aisle of many that lay before us, and once we were sure we were no longer seen and couldn't readily be heard, Hay Lin (thankfully) whispered, "Okay . . . so we've done what you came up with, Will: We all called our 'rents -- Well, except for _Caleb_, who essentially shares _my_ parents while he's here, anyway, so I did the calling for him -- earlier before meeting up, and told them that we'd be studying together here and wouldn't be home until around dinnertime, _and_ that our cellies would naturally have to be off until after we leave. . . . But, how, exactly, will we be able to Fold out of here without your body-people clearly noticing five bodies, _plus_ their all mighty and important figurehead have all gone missing??"

"_Ha_ . . . thanks for that, Hay. . . . Anyway, I would have thought it obvious. We leave _that_ up to Irma, and let her work her '_Mojo_' on them, persuading them to believe that we're still here and seated at our table, studying. I don't know. _Some_ cockamamie story," I explained quietly with a wave of my hand, looking at Irma, who nodded eagerly back at me with a grin. "Let's just hope that those two hadn't undergone some intense, mind . . . _bulking_ training or _whatever_ while becoming professional bodyguards."

"Yeah! 'Cause _seriously_ here: I _may_ be good at what I do -- And oh, ho, _ho!_ Am I! But _these_ guys truly look like trying to influence and convince _them_ to do anything, would be as frivolous as trying to convince a _lion_ to love _tofu_ -- Ain'ta neva gonna happen!" Irma joined in the conversation just as softly, making a good point as she rubbed her hands together in further contemplation. "Now . . . maybe if it had been that _Spirit_ chica instead, then this would probably be much easier, since she looked pretty laid back, some. . . . What happened to her, by the way? Did I already ask that? I can't remember."

My heart jumped.

I was hoping that no one would inquire about Sprita anymore, because the guilt was _still_ eating me up inside that I'd unintentionally gotten her canned . . . something I planned to keep on a need-to-know basis for as long as possible.

Realizing that everyone was still looking at me with expectancy, I forced a sheepish smile before responding.

"Huh? Oh. It's _Sprita_, Irma, _not_ 'Spirit' . . . and . . . she's on vacation, actually. That's why Nova's filling in."

Irma nodded once more, a brand new smirk upon her countenance while running a hand through her brown hair.

"Right, right. Couldn't handle the pressure, I hear ya," she teased, nudging my side with her other hand, causing me to blush after having understood the joke.

Cornelia, however, who had been silent (for once) since the ride over to the library, didn't seem to find anything amusing (no surprise). With yet another nettled suspiration, (Bet you're surprised I know that word, huh, journal? _Told_ ya that having a pocket dictionary is no joke) she blindly reached out to her right and impatiently drummed her long fingernails upon a random book placed upon the shelf.

"_Lord!_ This is all fine and _useless_ conversation time, here, but did anyone ever stop to think about how weird it might look to everyone else -- who just _might_ indeed come upstairs, thanks -- and see Will's posse just _standing_ there, keeping watch over an _empty_ table?" the blonde queried with a pressing air, searching each of our faces for an explanation, before resting her blue eyes upon Irma in a daring manner. Obviously, she wasn't quite yet finished with the Water Guardian, and wanted to complete the job that she'd started earlier of pushing her buttons before getting into the limousine about half an hour ago.

Saints be praised, though, because the wisecracking brunette merely let it roll off her back and shrugged with a calm simper splayed upon her smooth complexion.

"So, I'll tell them to go out and get a _hot dog_ on the next block at 'The Side Street Café', or something, while they'll continue to think that _we're_ all still back here. Whatever. And then, after we're done with our mission, we'll just pop back over here, retrieve Princess 'Pink Perky Poopy Pumpkin's strongarms and bibbity, bobbity, _boop! _We'll all be back in front of the warm glow of our fireplaces, just in time for both dinner _and_ some prime time T.V. No muss! No fuss!"

"Yeah . . . in _theory_. . . ." both Taranee and Hay Lin chimed in simultaneously underneath their breath, before Caleb at last piped up, checking the navy blue colored wristwatch securely fastened around his right wrist.

"Well, _whatever_ you happen to do, Irma, you'd better do it _now_, or else we won't be back before Princess Will's whereabouts become raised issues for concern. . . . I doubt that Matt would be able to cover for her _and_ for the rest of us, as well for very long. . . ."

I glared inappreciatively at him for this, both for calling me "Princess" yet again, after I've specifically asked him (and everyone else, for that matter) not to, and for his slight jab at Matt. Since when was Matt's competence ever an issue? Never was in the past, whenever we'd ask him to cover for us while on other Guardian-related outings.

So, naturally, I didn't understand why Caleb was giving him a hard time.

I still don't, in fact. . . .

My brown eyes searched his green for a moment, trying to see if I couldn't discover a clue of what was the matter with him, but Caleb only stared blankly at me before looking away with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

These actions, including his previous attack upon Matt, instantly had me feeling quite odious towards him all over again, feeling gravely compelled to defend my friend's creativity while under pressure, as well as overall honor.

I didn't do it, though. I wanted to, but couldn't risk another explosive argument to ensue at the hands of Cornelia.

And so, instead, like a coward, I only uttered a soft, ". . . Y-yeah. . . ." in reply.

After which, after gathering random reference and other informational books we could snatch from nearby shelves to bring back to our table, Irma went on ahead, already in deep concentration. It has, after all, been a while since she'd last taken over someone's mind, and being that Ernest and Nova would most likely be her most difficult "victims" yet, I could only imagine how nervous she might have been right then.

Then again, however, when it comes to the girls' secondary Guardian abilities, I've never been as up to date upon them as I am their primary powers, I will admit, so Irma could have very well been continuing her practices all this time (and most likely _abusing_ them in some manner, as she is prone to do).

I probably should, though, I know, because all of their gifts are just as important as the last, and as leader, I should definitely be on top of everything.

Well, not to say I wasn't ever before, but . . . uh. . . . What was I talking about, again?

Sorry! I'm rambling and spacing out again, aren't I? I don't even remember why I brought all of that up, which means I probably should end this entry here and finish it later . . . but then I _really_ won't remember anything, let alone have the motivation to complete this.

Regardless, after setting down each of our books onto the table, we stepped aside and let Irma place herself squarely in front of the Marsilian bodyguards, who both inclined their heads towards her in curiosity. I felt myself crossing my fingers behind my back with great hope and anticipation, seeing Hay Lin doing the same within the corner of my eye from where she stood next to me, as we'd all watched and waited to see if Irma really couldn't succeed within her magical persuasion.

With a deep, cleansing breath, the skillful Water Guardian narrowed her brilliant cyan colored eyes as she gazed up at the questioning duo, before presumably beginning the (hopefully not so) arduous task of mind-control.

After the first couple minutes or so, nothing seemed to have happened, which naturally made the rest of us become a bit antsy. However, right when I was about to reach out to the meditative brunette before me and let her know that she'd tried her best, Hay Lin let out an excited squeak that startled the lot of us as a result.

She didn't say anything more, or anything at all, for that matter, but only pointed in front of her with a happy grin of excited plastered across her flax hued visage. It was then painfully obvious, based upon Hay Lin's blithe reaction, that whatever seeds Irma had planted into both Nova and Ernest's presumably ironclad minds had successfully taken to sprout from then on.

Because for enough, both onyx hued bodies had gone instantly rigid, arms swiftly falling to their sides as Nova's mouth was the only one to open in response to Irma's mental instruction.

". . . Hey, Ernest . . . I think that we should go on ahead and grab a couple hot dogs for a late lunch down the corner . . . and wait there until the Princess and her friends have finished studying. . . ." the pixie cut, ashblonde bodyguard spoke in such a dazed air, so far unlike how I've ever heard her speak before (which was how I knew for sure that she definitely was under Irma's "spell"). ". . . And we should definitely be sure to let the King or anyone else who might contact one or both of us know that we are all still here inside the library so as not to raise suspicion. . . ."

I winced slightly at the last part, rolling my eyes in light amusement at how "Irma-like" that truly sounded. But, so long as it did the trick and all went off without a hitch, I couldn't care less.

Ernest only nodded in response, which wasn't much of a surprise to me since the guy is pretty much always silent, from what I've seen, and not even a bewitching moment such as this would dissuade that, apparently.

Waiting until the magic-influenced pair cleared the stairs and were out of earshot, about to set off to do what they were silently told, I swiftly lunged at the vaguely shorter girl and encircled my arms around her in appreciation.

"Irma, you're a miracle worker, I swear!" I said with a broad, relieved smile, watching Irma's cheeks gently flush in abashment to my reaction, yet the growing smirk upon her own face expressed great delight over it.

"Was there ever any doubt, Your Highness?" she remarked questionably, returning the hug before letting me go. "Although, it was a bit tricky at first, I will say. I had to repeat myself a couple times and made sure I'd worded everything just right until it finally took. But, hey. At least you know that your uncle's money isn't going to waste, paying these guys' salaries -- They truly do seem like one of the best around, after all!"

Cornelia, who moved from her spot next to Taranee and Caleb, passed the both of us to retrieve her belongings, and let out a soft, although distinct snort in the process.

"Right. 'Made sure I'd worded everything just right.' That's why the end came out so 'perfectly.' Having heard all of that lets me know without a doubt that you were inside of that woman's mind -- Poor her," she insulted with a satisfied smirk, draping her book bag back over her left shoulder.

"You know, Cornelia? I'm getting _reallll_ tired of your mouth, and --" was all I heard spill from Irma's mouth, before I hurriedly brought forth the Heart of Candracar, _finally_ opened a brand new Fold to Metamoor and practically _catapulted_ myself into it.

If only I could have been able to leave the both of them _and_ their argument behind for a lot longer than a millisecond.

Because there would be more to come, trust. . . .

"Now entering, Her Royal Highness, Princess Will of the Kingdom of Marsily, leader of the Guardians of the Veil and Keeper of the Heart of Candracar, her companions, their Ladyships, the Honorable Guardians of the Veil, and the prestigious ex-Rebel Leader, Caleb the Magnanimous!" the same Galhot, Meridian Palace's official announcer, Therapon, regrettably enunciated with great flourish the moment our sextet passed through the grand doors of Queen Elyon's throne room just a few minutes later.

Obviously he had been brushing up upon tailoring and perfecting his announcements for whenever I would come visit, now that he and, by now, the entire Meridian kingdom and beyond are all aware of my stupid royal lineage.

I knew it would happen, but it was still painfully excruciating to have to listen to my new, long winded title at all, let alone in front of the girls . . . and Caleb, my God.

But at least he got to suffer with me, his face greatly inflamed with embarrassment, since he never could stand it when the Royal Court would make a big huff over his arrival, always referring to him as "Caleb the Magnanimous." I think I'd rather take "Her Royal Highness" over that, to be honest, because being called "magnanimous" makes you sound so . . . invincible and godly or something.

Which is the main reason why it aggravates Caleb so, having always been so humble . . . for the most part.

About the only two within our happy little group who _would_ (and do) honestly enjoy such exalted titles and honors are Irma and Cornelia, the both of them always soaking up every moment they are granted immense attention from every last Metamoor inhabitant we come across.

Today, however, was a great change of pace.

That is, it was only Irma, once again back to her devil-may-care self, who promptly soaked up the rays of attention that were radiating within all of our direction. Cornelia, however, power walking her way to her primary best friend who was waiting with eager and open arms at her throne, had her face crumpled into the hardest, tightest grimace I have ever seen her affixed upon her visage before she gruffly passed by me.

This was going to be a really fun mission.

"Ah, I never get tired of hearing that – Although, apparently having to hear 'Her Royal Highness' in addition from now on _will_ take some time getting used to. A celebrity in two separate worlds! How many famous people of today as well as the past can say they've accomplished that? You're one bold pioneer for your time, Princess," the brown haired humorist said gaily at my side, grinning proudly at seeing that she made my face turn an even darker shade of red than it was already.

"Yep . . . this is going to be Hell. . . ." I mumbled underneath my breath, vigorously rubbing at my forehead before a giggling Hay Lin from behind me delivered in kindness, "Aww, it's not _so_ bad, Willie! It just means that a lot of people really care for and love you!"

Ha. Poor, poor, sweet and naïve little Hay Lin. If only she knew just how wrong she was in that little presumptuous statement of hers.

"Did they do this the last time?" Taranee asked with a curious smile upon lips, although, as _my_ chief best friend, would already know just how precise my discomfit must have been if Elyon's palace attendants had made such a fuss when I was last here with Matt.

"Uh . . . yep. Yes, they did, 'Ranee, sadly. . . ." I affirmed with a light sigh and weak simper of my own, accepting the Fire Guardian's sympathetic pat upon my shoulder while the four of us continued on in a slightly leisure walk to Queen Elyon's throne with Caleb maneuvering around us to walk ahead. It was fine, I suppose, our chosen speed of movement, I mean, because Cornelia was already chatting up a storm with the young monarch, I could see in the distance.

At least it seemed to be happy talk, though, since both girls had broad smiles gracing their fair and delicate features. (Now, watch how quick that grin vanishes from Cornelia's face the moment I join them.)

Irma let out an impressed whistle, wrapping an arm around my neck with one hand while gaily beginning to count off the points she was about to make with the other.

"Pretty impressive resume, I'd say! I mean, seriously: 'Magical being;' 'regular world-saver;' 'high school student;' 'princess;' and 'millionaire!' _Now_ all you need is to add 'possibility of boyfriend' to the list and your life shall complete!"

"_Don't I know it, sister. . . ."_ was what I wanted to say in response, suddenly feeling tired of continuing to keep up with the lie that I wasn't in love with Caleb, mainly because I growing equally tired of a certain blonde's poor treatment of me in the last week or so. I mean, I've been keeping my mouth shut, besides knowing that it wouldn't change anything if I didn't (in the regard that Caleb was never going to like me no matter how much I wished for it), for the sake of her own feelings.

But the way she kept freely and openly hurting mine without a second thought lately was causing me to severely rethink things, I gotta admit. . . .

Still, as tempting as it would be for me to brutally destroy the steadily discourteous blonde's perfect world, I know that if I ever did, not only would our friendship ultimately be eradicated, as well, but Karma would most certainly come after me tenfold.

And that's the last thing I need right now.

And so, instead, I simply responded to Irma with a quick, "Uh . . . that's okay, Irma. I'd be too busy to have one right n --"

"_Who's_ got a boyfriend? You, Will? I _knew_ it! I just had a very strong feeling that you and Matt had gotten back together!" Elyon had to go and announce right in front of everyone, instantly reverting back to her younger, more carefree self with a beaming and intrigued smile consuming the whole of her smooth, regal face. "I mean, the way you two had been clicking so much the last time you were here, I just _knew_ --"

"-- Matt and I are _not_ together again, for the final time, please," I hastily corrected with a small grimace, wishing I could will my body to somehow phase through the marble floor beneath my feet, in order to relieve myself from everyone's ever watchful eyes. "A-and nor do I have a boyfriend, period, at the moment. . . ."

I instantly regretted having said that final bit, for all of the obvious reasons, naturalment . . . a grand lament that did not stand a chance in diminishing, I might add, because Hay Lin had to chime in, out of _no_ where, with, "But the _dream_ of one is never far behind. . . ."

What the fedge? Where did that come from? I swear that girl has been reading far too much of some of Irma's old romance novels, because now she's starting to sound like one of the cheesy characters.

Yeesh.

All of us (even including some of the Queen's surrounding court, which was pretty disconcerting, I gotta say) looked upon the smallest and youngest member of the Guardians with utter mystification at her energized, almost knowing remark, which in turn resulted in the Asian-American's flax hued cheeks to go ablaze with abashment.

_She_ was embarrassed? Are you _kidding_ me??

"A-_anyway_, I told you that I would be back soon, Elyon -- And with the girls this time, so yes, they all finally know the truth about me, before you ask -- to check things out," I jumped in with an unruffled air, trying to appear as though none of what had just occurred bothered me in the slightest (which wasn't easy, what with Cornelia still throwing me icy daggers of Death with her eyes while she stood next to the chipper Elyon, and Caleb sandwiched in between his queen and myself, our close proximity nearly too unbearable for me to stand). "But . . . judging by the continued elated expression upon your face right now, I'm going to assume that there is no longer anything _to_ 'check out,' huh?"

With a vague raise of her delicate, fair colored eyebrows, Queen Elyon gently cocked her platinum colored head to the side and slightly jostled it side to side some a moment, before moving forward and away from her glorious throne to proceed in giving the rest of us a proper greeting.

"Well, actually, Will, there _is_, but it isn't anything to write home about, thankfully -- Although it apparently _had_ been something to yarn fantastic tales about, according to Aldarn and Vathek's report," the young monarch revealed with a broadened smile after having released both Taranee and I from a generous, simultaneous embrace, before moving over to the awaiting Hay Lin and Irma who now stood next to her. "Oh, and sorry for the mix up about you and Matt -- I meant no disrespect, of course. It's just that it really did seem as though the two of you were heading or already have headed down the path of starting anew in your former relationship. I always did think you two made the absolute best couple, you know."

Wonderful. Just what I needed to hear. Now I know for absolute _certain_ that if I ever had managed to hook up with Caleb, Elyon _really_ would be cheesed off. One, for filching her best friend's guy, and two, for "defying" a queen's all too important opinion.

I suppose now, then, it really _is_ all for the best that none of that will ever happen, because it's stringently plain to see that it had "Apocalypse Now" written all over it.

Yes, I know. I'm obsessing too much over the "loss" of Mr. Ex-Rebel Leader yet again, and am becoming way too whiny (even for my _own_ taste), and should probably stow it once and for all. And yes, I know I've been saying _that_ in like, practically every entry I've written in the last couple of days.

BUT I CAN'T HELP IT! MY LIFE TRULY _DOES_ SUCK!!

. . . . Wow. Now _that_, journal, is what we can confidently refer to as a mental breakdown, brought on by steady fatigue and emotional trauma.

I have _got_ to end this entry soon, or else there will be nothing left of my brain but grayish, chunky-like pudding in its wake.

Les yawn . . . les sigh . . . les desire-to-go-straight-to-sleep-after-writing-this-journal-entry-and-not-bother-with-my-homework. . . .

Alas. Back to Meridian.

"Aldarn and Vathek are here within the palace at the moment, Your Majesty??" Caleb excitedly spoke right when I'd opened my mouth to respond to The Light of Meridian's nonplus comment; however, was very grateful that the brunet had saved me the trouble.

Although, when I think on it, it honestly wasn't much of a surprise that Caleb would pounce upon any and all mention of the two Metamoor natives in question, as it has been quite a while since he had seen his best friends last.

And, admittedly, it was . . . kind of cute to have witnessed the otherwise cool and collected otherworldly young man instantly become a bit like a wide-eyed child in mere seconds at that moment, green eyes sparkling with grand intrigue and mouth splintered into an eager smile.

Okay, okay.

So it was _more_ than just "kind of cute." It was freaking _adorable_. But I forced myself to . . . well, force myself to yawn in exhaustion (which actually wasn't all that hard, as you know, since my sleepiness _was_ starting to creep back up onto me by that time, anyhow), so it would appear as though I wasn't even paying attention to anything that was being said, let alone how gloriously handsome that freaking guy appeared to me right then.

Damn this accursed heart of mine.

Elyon giggled gently at the sight, affectionately patting her former savior and protector upon his shoulder, as Cornelia then moved over to her now blushing boyfriend's side and placed a tender kiss upon his cheek in paralleled fondness. (Ick) "Yes, Caleb, you're in luck this early evening. After all, it _is_ quite the treat whenever the one or both of them are actually upon palace grounds -- Let _alone_ within the palace, itself -- being that the two work tirelessly to train warriors if ever a new crisis should arise, or if the perfidious, alongside my brother, down below within the prison cells should somehow manage to miraculously escape once more," she explained, the warm simper upon her milky visage waning some, which made the six of us unanimously scowl in concerned disagreement.

"Then you should know that you have absolutely nothing to worry about, Your Majesty, having said that, because with trustworthy, valiant men like Vathek and Aldarn in charge, any sort of break out would be inconceivable," the male brunet promptly argued, practically upon all of our behalf, a look of confidence and reassurance shining forth from his countenance. "Especially not with Vathek's endless brawn and gallantry, and Aldarn's eclectic warrior skills and great nimbleness to utilize as you see fit."

This, for some reason, didn't seem to becalm the fair and wise Queen of Metamoor, but only made her become uncharacteristically flustered and flush within the face to have heard.

". . . Don't I know it. . . ." she mysteriously murmured in concurrence, her soft blue eyes becoming momentarily glassy with a far away gaze that Cornelia, especially, seemed to take great interest within. Catching her friend's stare, Elyon swiftly cleared her throat and smiled gently, calmly stroking a dainty hand across the top of her bejeweled head, already regaining her regal composure (something she must teach me how to wield so effortlessly). "Yes! Well! _Anyhow_, I trust that once the pair have returned from the weapons room and training grounds, and are alerted of your presence, they will be quite pleased to see you, as well, Caleb -- I know that I am. In fact, I am resoundingly pleased to see _all_ of you -- Which is, to properly answer your observational inquiry from earlier, Will, is the main driving force for my current happiness."

Um . . . wow. Talk about a mouthful. That settles it. I am totally getting princess lessons from Elyon from now on, I don't care _what_ Eli has to say about it.

Okay, so maybe I do, but only because it'd be hard to explain.

But, still.

Boy, does this young woman know her way around "big words" and keeping cool . . . although, I still don't get what was the big deal and reason for her becoming unglued for a moment in the first place.

Ah, well.

"_Trust_ me, Ellie, if I had known _far_ sooner about your . . . now apparently would-be crisis, it seems like, I would've found my _own_ way to Meridian to see you, straightaway," Cornelia broke through my thoughts just then with a dark gaze in my direction while reaching out to squeeze her greatest friend's hand. "You know _me!_ I _never_ turn my back on my _true_ friends!"

Was she serious? Honestly, now? As if that wasn't _blatantly_ obvious that she was directing that comment towards me, as some sort of shot at my expense, like I'm one of the world's lousiest companions and never cared for any of my friends.

I swear. You make one mistake and you can never be allowed to forget it.

With a sharp sigh and roll of her eyes from Irma, the uncomfortable shifting of her body from Hay Lin, and facial covering with one of her hands executed by Taranee, that was about the only sort of objection I was awarded on my behalf.

Because otherwise, it didn't really seem like Elyon or Caleb even realized (or perhaps even cared) what had been said. Caleb merely smiled lightly next to the two blondes, while the Queen, clearly too consumed within her joy of having all of her friends in one place again after so long, rhapsodized, "Oh, I know! I'm _beyond_ glad to see you right now, Cornelia, because I have _so_ much to catch up with you over! With _all_ of you! I am _definitely_ going to have to start visiting you more often!" she delivered, now sounding identical to her "pre-royal" self. "But enough about me! Tell me! How have things been with Will and of she being of royal blood, as well? Crazy? _Exciting?_ How did all of _you_ react to the news? And does 'everyone else' know now, as well?"

I was waiting for the precise moment the conversation would shift, just like the last time I was there, from crucial to _trivial_ matters, so as soon as Elyon finished speaking, I immediately pounced at the opportunity to shut down the impending gossip session I could see both Irma and Hay Lin already opening their mouths to commence, and suggested, "Uh, shouldn't we handle business first, before having idle, _super_ non-important chitchat??"

"Yeah, seriously. I second that notion wholeheartedly," the Earth Guardian, of course, harmonized with without fail, her former irritation steadily returning and practically congesting the entire grand throne room in the process.

This time around, however, Queen Elyon didn't seem to have turned a blind eye to her best friend's continual and curious cantankerous disposition since the beginning of our visit. She peered upon her childhood companion with a peculiar eye, at last having sensed the other girl's upset.

". . . You are right, I am sorry," she began carefully, keeping her focus upon Cornelia, who preferred to avoid her gaze, it seemed like, the way she suddenly seemed to find the hem of her jeans so intriguing. "Where are my manners? You have come all this way, just for me, and I haven't even bothered to offer the utmost, proper hospitality! Please! Let us all adjourn into the dining hall, where we might enjoy quite a fine supper! And Vathek and Aldarn will be able to join us, as well, yes, Caleb, so that you three may catch up all that you wish!"

**-- To Be Continued**


	41. Chapter Forty Part Two

Oh, Lord. Getting a cramp within my hand here, and I still have like, a third left of events to jot down.

Really is a shame I'm not as dedicated to my studies as I am to recording every last detail of my day-to-day life.

Still. Going back into "Lazy-Mode" for what went down during dinner, since all it was was just a bunch of more talking, more attitude, and more sleepiness on my end:

Therapon: _(Doing what he does best, announcing Aldarn and Vathek's arrival into the dining hall, just as the seven of us had sat down at the table) _Now entering, the dual most decorated legionaries of Meridian, Vathek the Stalwart, and Aldarn the Masterful!

Caleb: _(Instantly the first to leave his seat and swiftly close the distance between his two dearest companions and himself as they approach, bestowing onto each of them a hearty handshake and chaste hug) _Aldarn! Vathek! It's been _so_ long, my friends!

Irma: _(Lightly nudging Hay Lin's side with a smirk while sitting in between she and I, before whispering into her ear so that Cornelia, who sat across from her and was thankfully too consumed with watching her uncharacteristically giddy boyfriend, could not hear)_ Talk about 'sappy reunions,' eh? I always knew his girl was some sort of emotional succubus -- You don't ever see him get _that_ 'jazzed up' whenever in _her_ presence.

Hay Lin: _(Stifling a soft giggle before whispering back, catching my fleetingly amused stare before I swiftly wiped it away from my expression and turned my attention back onto the three male Metamoor natives chatting it up to my left in the near distance) _C'mon, now, Irma! That's not nice! Caleb is _always_ . . . well . . . okay, so he's _not_ really all that big on showing emotion most of the time. But, still! It doesn't mean that he's not some sort of _Casanova_ whenever alone with you-know-who!

Taranee: _(Taking an idle sip of her beverage from out of the golden, bejeweled goblet that had been set before her as well as the rest of us, seated on the other side of the Air Guardian)_ . . . . TMI, Hay . . . TMI, please. Thank you.

Vathek:_ (As I'd tuned back in time to listen to him say, while leading the way over to the elongated and elegantly decorated table where we girls all sat and waited for them) _Oh, ho! Caleb! And the _Guardians!_ What a sight for my aging eyes!

Aldarn: _(Chuckles in warm fondness at the burly Galhot walking next to him, as Queen Elyon rose from her seat at the head of the table with a grin, the rest of us following suit)_ Oh, I wouldn't say 'aging,' Vathek. More like . . . '_matured_.' Nevertheless, it's always so wonderful to see all of you again, my friends! This visit must certainly make my Queen very happy. . . .

Elyon: _(Suddenly blushing profusely at this, a sight that only caused Aldarn to mysteriously do the same, which in turn made Cornelia seem to observe the two of them quite intensely for a moment or two before turning her attention back onto Caleb, who had returned to her side by that moment)_ Y-Yes! Well! If I am pleased, Aldarn, it is, naturally, with just cause! I have been awaiting your return -- Both yours _and_ Vathek's, of course -- so that you could inform the Guardians and Caleb of your findings about that dotty rumor of revolt! But first! Let us _all_ be seated now and at last commence with this evening's meal!

Dinner was, as always, scrumptious.

And the company wasn't so bad, either, Cornelia _included_. But this was mainly because she was sandwiched in between two of her most favorite of people for the entire duration, _and_ because the majority of the meal's conversation had nothing to do with me in any way.

Well, for the most part, anyway.

As for the rumor, it honestly was just that. More like a children's tale, actually, based upon what Vathek and Aldarn had let all of us in on, that is.

See, according to the two of them, after my previous visit to Meridian and even during, they had been busy scouring the entire kingdom over, trying to see if they couldn't catch anyone speaking or alluding to any sort of anarchy.

This was all to no avail, however, and had been for days thereafter, they'd said, "almost as though it had been merely within our imagination," as Vathek had put it. And this news, needless to say, had made Elyon both anxious as well as relieved once the two Galhot men had informed her about it.

But it wasn't until just a couple days before, while on patrol throughout the kingdom, when Aldarn happened to have come across a small gaggle of children playing near the outskirts of the city who were excitedly talking about something similar to what he, Vathek and Elyon had heard.

"Only . . . it wasn't as what we'd all understood," Aldarn commented at the end of dinner, taking over the storytelling for Vathek, who was busy siphoning out the last of his pale ale from out of his golden chalice.

Long story short, there is no possible revolt. There is no possible rumor. It was just some dumb old wives's tale that dates back to prehistoric times in the world of Metamoor and used to terrify children. Okay, maybe not "prehistoric times," per say, but according to Elyon, it has been around, this tale, since long before her time and even just a little bit before her entire Escanor family's.

About how there's this land region, not far from Meridian, "about half a day's journey on foot," Vathek says, called Phocas Chasm. It's only a mere legend, he went on to tell all of us, but it's been said to be a vast crevasse that goes on for miles in both directions, and is a focal point for neutral energy.

Seeing as none of us were getting the point to this entire explanation quite yet, we five Guardians, at least, just continued sitting there in confusion, waiting for someone to finally cut to the chase. Because, I mean, I didn't honestly understand the big deal about this Photo Chasm, or whatever it's called.

Neutral energy? Wouldn't that just mean that it's _not_ a threat in any way?

And if it did mean that, then why was it made into such a big time legend and used to scare the crap out of little kids (which was why, Aldarn also told us, those children were hanging around where they were, because it was the farthest from the city and closest, in theory, to this chasm place any of them could get without getting in trouble with their folks, or giving one another major heart attacks in the process) in the first place?

Apparently, not a whole lot is known about this place, even after all this time, which is the primary reason many citizens are afraid to journey there. Why take a chance, you know? But it doesn't explain the bit about neutral energy.

At least, it didn't, not until Queen Elyon took over the reins.

"As you know, this entire land is one fortified with my magical energy, making Meridian, specifically, the most absolute point of mystical faculty," she said with an instructive wave of her hand. "Now, at the same time, however, there are other places within this world -- Places that even _I_ have yet to visit, including this Phocas Chasm -- that share within their _own_ form of distinct power, etcetera. For whatever reason, though, despite this knowledge, this one particular region is apparently absent of any of that. That is, it is known to be supposedly as well as eerily devoid of any and all vibrancy. Stranger still, no one, to this day, seems to understand why -- At least, none still among the living, anyhow. Some say it _had _been once full of as much energy as the rest of Metamoor, but then just one day mysteriously became what it is now without any explanation. _Others_ believe it never had been thriving to begin with. So, you can see quite the conundrum this darkling place poses for us within our quest to better understand its origins. . . ."

Yeah, it does.

That information doesn't help in the slightest. I still didn't get the big deal. It just sounded like a place such as the Grand Canyon, where there isn't much life around to gaze upon . . . not until you go snooping around further into said canyon, at least.

I was honestly about to say so, when Vathek carried with another tidbit.

"And then, there are those, like the grandmother of one of the children Aldarn had encountered, who believe the old notion that that land is _cursed_, and is dead and always _will_ be because of an old hex placed upon it by a vengeful witch," he revealed with a quiet growl, his sharp, white and bottom fangs glinting within the warm illumination of the grand dining hall as he continued to speak. "The children, as it was, had been trying to frighten one another by yarning out _new_ stories, about how there is the rumor that that very same witch will soon return to finish what she had started long ago, by causing the _rest_ of this world to be just as barren as Phocas Chasm. . . ."

"As though that had not _already_ happened, Vathek, thanks to Phobos," Caleb bitterly remarked with a scowl, setting down his embroidered cloth down onto his empty plate in a slight huff. "He nearly bled the entire kingdom into irreversible oblivion . . . but at least all of that is over, and this would-be debacle turned out to be nothing more than a couple of kids being bored and having fun being mischievous in the end. We should consider ourselves very lucky."

Tell me about it.

So, after Aldarn had given those kids a swift talking to, they'd apparently promised never to talk about any of that again, lest it spread and end up terrifying the rest of the kingdom. Elyon said she was pretty relieved to receive the news, natch, but it also, at the same time, made her realize that there was so much about her world she had yet to learn about and discover . . . "which is why I am thinking about planning a sort of 'tour' of my entire kingdom and beyond, even," she revealed, dropping the bomb on all of us.

Cornelia, naturally, was the first to properly react to this. And by "proper," I mean, shout.

"Whoa! _What??_ Isn't that a bit _dangerous?_ I mean, what about the palace? Your people? What will they do without you here to defend them? And you _can't_ just go alone, either!" she reasoned with an abrupt outburst, causing the dining attendants, who had left the nine of us to eat in peace and privacy, to gaze upon her in utter perplexity while they approached to clean up the table.

"I'm sorry, Ellie, but Cornelia _does_ have a point, albeit a tad strained," Taranee thoughtfully concurred with a raise of her slender finger while continuing. "I mean, even _if_ all of this turned out to be just some sort of false alarm, you, yourself said that you're not yet completely aware of what your world's entirety has to offer. It would be pretty risky to venture out there ill prepared."

"I understand the concern, Taranee -- _Trust_ me. I thought about of all this and more, myself. But it also has been years since the first time I'd displayed my powers and then eventually honed in upon my abilities. And _also_ years since any sort of or cause for alarm," Queen Elyon gently argued with an appreciative smile, slowly rising to her feet, causing the rest of us to do the same. "Now, I am not saying that I am suddenly some sort heedless queen or any such similar notion; however, if ever there was a time I might do this, would it not be now? Regardless, it's mere talk at this current juncture, one I have only truly discussed with Vathek and Aldarn, up until now."

I thought that was honestly the end of that discussion, something I was actually hoping for, but only because I was increasingly exhausted (which was why I didn't bother to speak much throughout dinner, in case you hadn't noticed) and figured we could just Fold back home right then.

I mean, not to be rude or anything, but I only went there mainly for business rather than pleasure, and since it turned out that everything was once again A-Ok, I didn't see the point in overstaying our welcome.

No such luck, though, since Cornelia, while walking away from the dining table with the rest of us, decided to reopen the topic for further discussion with, "Yeah? And what do _you_ think about all of this then, Aldarn? I mean, after all, I think that you, especially, should absolutely accompany Elyon, if both you and Vathek could not because one of you would have to stay behind to mind the palace and prisoners or whatever," she volunteered with a mystified, knowing look riddled upon her peaches and cream complexion.

"That's a good point, Cornelia. I mean, _I_ would do it, myself, if I didn't have . . . my new life back in Heatherfield," Caleb agreed with a small nod of approval, although his voice gave off the slightest hint of forlornness. "Plus, graduation _is_ coming up soon, after all. I would hate to see the last four years I've spent trying to keep up with the knowledge and ways of Earth's educational facilities wasted. . . ."

And then, for some reason, Caleb looks at me. For like, a good solid three seconds, almost.

Normally, and especially if I hadn't been so tired, that might have earned quite a few butterflies to rattle my insides to have witnessed, regardless of my "hate" for the guy.

Oh, don't get me wrong. Of course I was surprised by it, since, as far as I can remember and paid attention to, anyway, he never once looked my way throughout the entire meal.

But this "shocker" only left me feeling very confused.

Why? Because I haven't even spoken for this entire time. Not to mention I'm in the same boat he's in about school and so close to graduation and all that. So I don't get why he would look at _me_, all of people, as though expecting me to make some sort of opposing comment.

Sigh. Just gets weirder and harder to understand, that one. . . .

"Well, like Queen Elyon has said, it is only talk, with nothing definite planned, but of course I would absolutely accompany Her Majesty . . . t-to keep her safe, I mean!" Aldarn tried to correct himself as swiftly and as casually as he could for his apparent blunder, once again making his tea green colored visage to become a bit more rosy in the process . . . and Elyon's, as well.

I wonder what's up with the two of them, seriously.

At least I wasn't the only one to have noticed this, because Cornelia, with a broad smirk, gently pats the more slender Galhot of the two present upon the back and says, "Mmhmm . . . I'll bet. . . ."

Maybe if Cornelia didn't hate me so much right now, I could ask her if she knew something the rest of us didn't. But, oh well. I don't think that will happen any time soon, seeing as she nearly tried to _murder_ me after dinner. . . .

You read that right.

Cornelia Hale, who should be more of a peace loving sort of person, being that she is the chosen Earth Guardian, tried to obliterate me.

Okay. So it was an accident . . . so she says, anyway.

But, still.

Confused?

Well, see, after dinner, and after unfortunately having to suffer through the gabfest about the latest installment within my wacked out princess adventures, something I knew was inevitable, of course, but didn't want to endure, Vathek was about to excuse himself to go back into the training room to fit in a small workout before commencing his nightly rounds about the palace grounds.

And that was when both Irma and Hay Lin suggested that we all do a little bit of training, ourselves, just to keep ourselves in shape.

"Couldn't hurt, right? Besides, I can't remember the last time I've been able to openly practice my powers without fear of Christopher bursting through the door at any moment, wanting to show me the latest comic book issue of 'Sludgeman,'" the Water Guardian said with a grimace.

"Yeah! And then afterwards, maybe we could all head out to this Phocas Chasm! How rad would that be, huh?" Hay Lin questioned with a fantastic, excited grin, already leading the way down the vast hall towards the training room.

"Are you out of your _mind_, Hay Lin?? Didn't you pay attention to the story? What part of 'Beware! Keep out!' did you not get about that place??" Taranee, ever the voice of reason, piped up as she took broader strides to catch up to the cheerful Guardian of Air.

"Oh, please, Rae! It's all just a bunch of gobbledygook -- No offense, Ellie," Irma defended her best friend, coming up from the rear as everyone else mindfully followed and I unnoticed, trailed behind. I didn't like where this was headed. The training idea was kinda of irking me as it was, being that was the last thing on my mind. But to try to "boldly go where no one has gone before?" Definitely wasn't feeling that.

Queen Elyon only shook her head in understanding.

"None taken, Irma. However, do you really think it wise to try to venture out so far, to a place we know little about, and within the middle of the night? Perhaps it would be better to wait until your next visit, maybe, before trying to go investigate on my behalf."

Cornelia, who was by that time nettled all over again, (Yes, of course because everyone started to talk about me and my being a princess) let out a gruff exhale before she stopped walking at the Queen's side and rested both hands upon her hips with an impatient air.

"Well, then, why don't we let the Princess decide what we should do? I mean, after all, she is our important leader," she executed with sarcastic sweetness, only those who did not know her that well or were not paying much attention believing that statement to be every bit of innocent.

It was then that everyone began to look about their group for me, which made my cheeks flush and chest to grow tight all over again with annoyance and pure disdain for the blonde standing just several feet before me.

"Will? Why are you trailing behind like that? Are you feeling all right?" Elyon kindly inquired with concern which I appreciated (although could have done without, for the mere sake of not wishing to further incur Miss Popularity's poisonous attitude yet again), however gazing upon Cornelia with distinct suspicion.

"W-what? Oh, no, I mean, yeah, I'm just fine, Elle, thanks," I said quickly, trying to sound unaffected by everything, all eyes fixated upon me for what felt like the umpteenth time that evening. "Just enjoying this walk, is all. . . . A-anyway, I think that . . . we should do what Irma and Hay Lin suggested and train a little bit, and then afterwards . . . join Aldarn and Vathek within their patrolling, just to be on the safe side. As for visiting the chasm, I think --"

"-- Whoa, wait, Will, sorry. That's a good idea, yeah, but since this _is_ a time of peace and has been for quite a while now, how could we go out trekking throughout the kingdom within our Guardian forms?" Taranee interjected with a thoughtful query as I slowly approached the rest of the group. "I mean, wouldn't that raise suspicion or even fear within anyone who might see us like that?"

Good point. Hadn't thought of that. After all, all of the other times any or all of us have come to Meridian, we've never bothered to transform. There wasn't a need to, you know? But we couldn't very well head out and survey Queen Elyon's kingdom without doing so, just in case there really _was_ some oogy-boogy lurking about.

After a slight pause, Hay Lin brightly offered, "Well, we _could_ always wear cloaks like that one time. . . ."

"Yeah, okay, Hay-Hay, but we'd _still_ be recognized to be within our Guardian forms," Irma debated with a light frown, before it melted into a cocky simper. "After all, we _are_ quite the 'A-Listers.' Well, _we_ are, anyway. _Red_, here, is like . . . some letter _above_ that that doesn't even exist . . . or does, but is so special that none of us even _knows_ about it yet. Um . . . what was my point?"

"That you're a hopeless _nut job_," Cornelia eagerly jumped at the chance to say, rolling her blue eyes. "_Anyway_, I highly doubt that anyone will be awake by the time we've finished training and head out there. And, if some are, I don't think they'll care."

Even though she was steadily getting on my nerves, the girl had a point, and I'd said so.

"Yeah, Cornelia's right, Irma. I believe we'll be okay," I said as I passed the taller girl without looking at her, and made my way to the front of our traveling gaggle now.

"I agree. . . ." I heard Caleb say from behind me, which made my heart jump.

Damn it, again.

Afterwards, Elyon had to bid us farewell, citing the reason being that she had to go tend to her royal schedule for tomorrow. She didn't seem so happy in saying so, which I just thought was because she didn't want to leave us so soon. I'm sure that was part of it, but it apparently was because of some duke who is visiting in two days for some banquet being held in his honor. "The Duke of Ilmarinen, Sir Iorwerth," she told us. She's not looking forward to it, mainly due to the fact that she's been told he has had his eye on her for quite a while now.

If that's true, I hope this Iorweth guy is a gentleman. Who knows? Maybe sparks will fly between them?

Curiously, though, instead of coming with the rest of us to the training room, Cornelia suddenly says that she'd join us later on, because there was something she'd been meaning to talk to Elyon about "for a while now, and now I finally have that chance."

Don't know what was so urgent, and I don't really care. I was happy, actually, that Cornelia wouldn't have been with us, if only for a little bit.

I wouldn't want to accidentally zap her in the tookus with one of my lightning bolts, however ironic that thought is. . . .

Turns out, Cornelia didn't return until about half an hour later, while everyone was in the midst of training, the remaining Guardians and myself having long since transformed.

And surprisingly, Elyon had returned with her, looking rather pensive, I might add. They _both_ were, actually, although Cornelia did appear a bit more relaxed, at the same time.

Go, figure.

But I was too busy trying to concentrate. Not upon the various water based attacks Irma, my partner at that time, kept hurling my way if we weren't practicing combination attacks (although that obviously was smart to do).

Nope.

I was trying to concentrate on _not_ sneaking glances at a _half naked_ Caleb behind Irma, who was busy practicing his swordplay with a half naked Aldarn after having completed hand to hand combat with Vathek (who had just left a few minutes before to begin checking the palace grounds).

_God_ . . . the way his rippling biceps and overall muscular body was glistening with sweat . . . _Woo!_ I'm surprised Irma didn't end up drowning me with one of her passing attacks.

Thank God neither she nor anyone else seemed to notice this, or my occasional slip ups within my magic, or else it'd have been really awkward.

Beyond awkward. . . .

_Anyway!_

Here's when we get to the part about how Cornelia tried to sever my mortal coil . . . kind of.

After transforming she, as well, Irma gives the girl an innocent smile and says, "Well, it's always so wonderful to have you join us, Cornelia . . . _only_ about twenty billion years later!" she playfully teased, mystically twirling a sphere of water she had manifested out of thin air upon her index finger as though it were a basketball.

Cornelia, emerging from the bright green ray of light that always accompanied her particular Guardian metamorphosis, tensed up a moment before letting out a slow sigh, obviously preferring to let the comment slide.

Yay.

"We were doing combined power drills, Cornelia," Hay Lin explained with a small smile as both she and Taranee approached, while Caleb and Aldarn continued on within their sparring in the not so far distance.

"Thanks, I could see that, Hay. And actually, I'd like to try something with _you_, Will, if _Irma_ doesn't mind giving you up," the blonde said mysteriously, causing a shiver to run down my spine to have heard, but merely dismissed it as nothing more than a passing draft within the open, outdoor arena.

"_Typical_. Always have to rain on my parade . . . which is completely ironic," Irma remarked with a mock frown, before stepping aside and dramatically bowing towards the other girl. "But knock yourself out -- I could use the break, anyhow."

I, on the other hand, was then beginning to feel a bit uneasy. Not that I wasn't up to it. I mean, the exercise had done well to recharge my waning batteries some, so I was no longer as fatigued as before.

But, still.

Working with Cornelia? With the way she's been acting and feeling around me lately?

Besides, when it came to enacting combo attacks, she was usually the last one I paired up with during battle and vice versa. There isn't exactly a whole lot the two of us could do with her earth and my lightning . . . except maybe start a fire or something.

And I told her so.

"Uh . . . so what did you have in mind, exactly, Cornelia? I mean, Earth and 'Electricity,' so to speak, don't exactly do well for a good combination against the enemy," I slowly reasoned, trying to read her blank expression.

I thought she was going to get all huffy-puffy like always right then, but she merely smiled faintly at me a moment before responding.

"Perhaps not, no . . . but _Telekinesis_ and Electricity do. . . ."

Wait . . . what? I didn't follow, and it must have shown upon mine and everyone else's face right then (all except Elyon, really, who merely looked on with a neutral expression playing about her countenance), because Cornelia let out a small sigh before pressing on.

"I've been practicing on perfecting my telekinesis on and off for a while now, when one day I thought to myself: If I can use my _Geokinesis_ to cause plants and such to grow larger and stronger at will, then why can't I do the same with my _telekinesis_ for any one of your guys' powers?"

It was starting to make a little sense to me then, and I honestly thought it to be a pretty good idea the more I mulled it over within my head.

". . . So, you're saying that you'd like to try to use your telekinesis to mentally . . . _expand_ my lightning based attacks?" I deliberated with a thoughtful furrow of my brow, while Cornelia nodded in response. "That's actually not that bad of an idea. But why do you want to try it on _my_ powers, though? If anything, I'd like to think that _Taranee's_ would be the best choice of all, given her fierce and deadly fire power."

"What?? Why me? Why can't Irma go first? I can barely control my powers on my own sometimes, thank you very much," Taranee declared with an indignant air, looking at me with a very apprehensive, inappreciative gaze while Irma and Hay Lin softly giggled at the sight.

"See? Exactly. Not to say that 'Ranee can't hold her own, but hers are the most unpredictable of all five of our powers. I wouldn't want to end up hurting her or vice versa while we did this," Cornelia explained with a soft tap upon the slightly frazzled girl's arm. "And anyway, in case you hadn't noticed, Will, your electric bolts _are_ fire, themselves, as well. An increased, more advanced form of. There's _nothing_ more 'fierce and deadly' than lightning! There is very little to combat it, like how water can against fire . . . or even a good dousing of earth, _I_ don't know. My point is this: I want to try this with _you_, first, Will. . . ."

Well, geez. Since you put it that way, how can I refuse?

I should have been slightly offended that she wasn't willing to risk hurting Taranee over this, but seemed okay in doing so with me, but I knew that all that had been brought up had been a good point.

My powers were the better candidate for this new venture, even if I was still a bit wary to want to try it.

Nonetheless, I solemnly nodded before Cornelia already turned and hurriedly moved further down the dirt ground, until she was a little over three feet or so away from me. Seeing that there was some sort of commotion going on, and that their queen was present, (Took them a while, didn't it?) Caleb and Aldarn at last ceased within their sword fight to watch what was about to unfold.

Lucky me.

"Perfect! All right . . . are you ready?" the Earth Guardian called out to me in the distance, already assuming a battle stance.

Talk about eager.

"Uh . . . y-yeah. . . . _Yes_, I am," I replied firmly, trying my best not to show any sign of apprehension to carry on in this. I am the leader, after all. The last thing I need is something like my being scared of a little training session to be hung eternally over my head by Cornelia or anyone else . . . like a certain, chiseled brunet currently watching from the sidelines with everyone else.

"Take care, you two . . . _whatever_ it is you're about to do," Caleb advised, speak of the devil, which was rewarded with an appreciative smile from Cornelia, who promptly replied, without looking his way, "Thanks for the concern, sweetie, but _I've_ got this under control."

_Yeah__, you do_, I couldn't help but think to myself with a brief grimace, then mirroring the same stance as the blonde opposite me in the near distance.

"Okay, Will! Just form as small an energy ball as you can," Cornelia began to instruct, body already beginning to glow a faint emerald as she was then obviously starting to tap into her innate power. "Then, maintain its form while I begin to focus on it to expand its size and potency."

I hesitated for a moment at this. Not because I couldn't do it. Are you kidding? I can throw or form lightning in my sleep if I wanted to.

But it was just beginning to feel like some sort of test.

Not a test in the sense that Cornelia was trying to dupe me or anything like that. I mean like a test at school, or a speech I have to deliver back in my Public Speaking class.

The pressure was on, and I wasn't really enjoying it. (No surprise)

And so, without a word, I closed my eyes for a moment to concentrate, refocusing my energy in order to create the requested size of ball lightning. After only a couple seconds, natch, I'd succeeded in doing so, opening my eyes again to gaze upon the crackling white hot sphere of electricity cradled within my hands.

Now, it was all up to Cornelia to do the rest.

At first, though, nothing seemed to be happening. I mean, I continued to stand there, looking from Cornelia to my hands and back again, as did everyone else. But there didn't seem to be much of a change in anything except maybe the increased lapsing of time.

But, then, finally, it happened.

Right at the very moment I had taken my concentration off of what I was doing just for a second.

I was about to suggest to Cornelia that maybe we should call it quits and try again some other time, when I suddenly felt my hands grow inexplicably tingly . . . like I had a cramp within them, or something.

So when I looked down at them, I saw that the ball lightning I had been sustaining for all that time for the other girl had begun to grow swiftly larger, and excruciatingly brighter to boot. I could hear everyone doing their "Oooh's" and "ahhh's" about it, and honestly was going to do so, myself, when the next thing I know, my hands -- My entire body, in fact -- felt like they were on fire.

It was because my once minuscule sized lightning ball was now the same stature of about two _watermelons_ combined. It was too much focused and hurried energy for me to maintain, and I knew, without a doubt, it was going to end pretty badly for me.

Sure enough, before I could even react, I could feel myself being catapulted to the hard and rigid ground beneath me, and what felt like a larger-than-life _bulldozer_ pummeling all of its weight into my left shoulder.

I didn't have to be a genius to understand what had just happened then.

Even though the pain was unbearable, and part of the lavender colored balloon sleeve of my Guardian outfit had been completely singed (which is a good thing that our attire, somehow, always manages to magically repair itself if at any time we might tear or dirty them after every mission), as I saw when I slowly opened my eyes a couple minutes later, all I could think to myself was:

_Hmm. So this is what it feels like to be struck by lightning. No wonder some of our enemies of the past hated going up against me sometimes._

I mean, granted, I've been hit a couple times by Nerissa and her mirrored powers back in the day. But as strong as she had been, whenever she'd hit me, it only honestly felt a little stingy, like a swift slap in the face.

Nothing at _all_ how _this_ current pain felt.

Note to self: Never try this move with Cornelia ever again.

"Oh, my God! _Will!_ You okay??" I heard Hay Lin call out to me as a collection of footsteps hurriedly gathered towards me, while I merely continued to lie securely upon my back and stare blankly up at the night sky.

"Y-yeah . . . I think so," I breathed with a wincing exhale and slight lie, as shock wave after shock waves of pain careen throughout my temporarily broken body. I knew I would be all right, eventually, sure, so long as nothing was broken (which it didn't feel like). I, like the rest of the other Guardians, am a fast healer.

But I do think, looking back upon it, it was a bit of a stretch to agree that I was all right.

In Opposite World, maybe.

"Well, geez, Cornelia! Were you trying to barbecue the poor girl??" Irma chastised as she and Aldarn bent over to gingerly help me back up onto my feet.

"Oh, right! Like I did . . . _this_ on _purpose!!" _the fair haired teenager spat back in defense once she was the last to approach, her face expression perturbation intermingled with concern, while her blue eyes illustrated something . . . different. "And _anyway!_ It's only about the equivalent of a _scratch_ for _Will_, getting hit with the backlash of _her_ own power! Imagine if that had been _me _on the receiving end!"

And this, dear journal, was when I'd begun to wonder if Cornelia really _hadn't_ done all of this on purpose, knowing that what she had just pointed out to be true.

If it _hadn't_ been so big and concentrated, maybe my own attack _wouldn't_ have hurt as much.

But, at the same time, maybe that's also what Cornelia had been banking on. To wait until she'd made it as large as she possibly could, before maybe somehow forcing it to ricochet itself into me through the use of her continued telekinesis?

And who would be able to honestly point fingers at her, when she was only doing her job, more or less? How was _she_ to know this would happen, and, moreover, cause me so much pain when it was my very own innate ability?

Damn, she's good.

Okay, okay. So I'm not definite within these theories, nor do I really believe Cornelia had aimed to hurt me on purpose . . . _yet_.

I was merely pointing things out.

But none of that was even the most saddest of parts.

Know what was?

The absolute, utter lack of reaction from Caleb. He just _stood_ there, next to Cornelia and Taranee, and didn't even seem to care that my arm was, by that point starting to swell up like a fat piece of sausage.

So, I really could have died right then, and he probably just would have been like, "Okay, then. Who's up for some more training??"

Remind me never to engage in swordplay with _him_, or else my _head_ might be the next part of my body to be severely injured, in the lopped completely _off_ kind of way.

"Well . . . at the very least, you now know that your idea works somewhat, Cornelia," Aldarn gently soothed, carefully examining my arm to see if there was any permanent scarring. ". . . . It just needs more practice and executed care, that's all. But I think we should all call it a night . . . wouldn't you agree, Your Majesty?"

Queen Elyon, who had been mum up until that moment, even throughout this entire debacle, which was very unsettling given that she's usually the first to react whenever one or all of us fall injured for one reason or another, nodded slowly.

". . . Yes, of course, Aldarn. . . . Will, I really hope you will be all right," she said with genuine sincerity, moving over to give me a brief hug so that she wouldn't further my continued pain. "Cornelia . . . a word, please? I will have to say goodnight to you all now; I am sorry to be a bit fleet-footed about it, especially in light of everything that has just transpired, but I hadn't realized it was so late. Forgive me. . . ."

Talk about weird.

That was all Elyon said to us by way of explanation or proper goodbye before she seized Cornelia by the hand and had her escort her back out of the training grounds and back into the palace. What a complete one-eighty from the happy, boisterous nature she had been exhibiting that entire evening, to suddenly unable to wait any longer to get out of there, it seemed like.

Sort of feels like she knew something we didn't. Hmm. . . .

At any rate, I was still in pain, and the one person who could have readily taken said pain away had just been dragged away by the Queen.

Not like I was going to ask Cornelia to heal me, anyway, for obvious reasons.

Nope.

Alas, my pride would simply have to suffice as any sort of soothing remedy for the seething affliction my stupid, red, blotchy, and puffy arm was emitting throughout my senses.

But at least, once I got back home, I could easily cover that up with long sleeve shirts or sweaters for the morning commute back to school.

Which meant no grief from King Elisud.

". . . Something's definitely crawled up _her_ snooty booty today . . . and, well, _everyday_. . . ." Irma commented with a disapproving frown, arms folded across her chest as she and the rest of us watched the blonde duo leave the area. "Wouldn't be surprised if she had done this on _purpose_. But I _am, _however, rathersurprised that she didn't choose _me_ to pair up with, so that she could use her telekinesis to try to _drown_ me with my own water. Sigh . . . how poetic that would be. . . ."

The girls and I couldn't help but to gently chuckle at this, Irma included, while Aldarn nervously smiled as he then completed his examination of my appendage, and Caleb silently led the way out of the training arena after picking up his shirt from off of the ground.

Wouldn't you know it, that pride can actually be unhealthy for you? So much so, that it's actually one of the seven deadly sins?

Because I apparently have so much of it, that I chose to carry on with our patrolling idea.

Yep.

Rather than go straight home, I said nope, my arm is hurting less now (which it was, in truth, but still), and we wouldn't be fighting anyway, just flying around and making sure things were all right.

What a trooper I am.

But looking back, now that I'm back here at the Plaza and my arm is starting to act up again, I'm thinking that that was probably one of the dumbest choices as leader I have ever made.

And it only got better from there, too.

We were all gathered right outside of the palace gates, awaiting for me to decide where everyone would go during their patrol and who with, if at all.

"All right, you guys. Since it is getting pretty late, and even the Queen, herself, was forced to retire for the night for her activities tomorrow, let's try to be as quiet, swift and thorough as possible, okay?" I instructed automatically, while trying to mask my ongoing fatigue, not to mention my ongoing soreness from the aforementioned _physical_ shot Cornelia had bestowed upon me earlier.

That fact _alone, _I will say again, was truthfully making me all the more less enthused to go on patrol at all.

But, yet again, duty comes first . . . damn it, damn it, _damn it,_ I write for the billionth time.

While I tried my best to "zen" myself before I'd attracted unwanted attention, (Story of my life, right?) I can hear my button-pusher, herself (who'd returned to us, this time without Elyon, approximately ten minutes later, with a light scowl upon her face), suddenly go, "_Right_. But anyway, thanks, Aldarn, for volunteering to let Ellie know what we _won't_ find after we've left." Clearly, she was trying to be reassuring as well as clever, and even though I internally agreed with her that we most likely would _not_ find anything worrisome before the night was through, it still irritated me fantastically to hear her speak at all at that moment.

And get this: I actually felt bad for that -- Even though _she_ started with _me!_

Good Lord, I'm such the remarkable humanitarian. Bet that'd make ol' Eli proud to know . . . before he'd then swiftly enlist me within a number of drastically time consuming charities.

Ow. Headache. Stupid, simultaneous thoughts of Eli _and_ Cornelia is wreaking havoc upon my physical health!

_Argh!!_

But because I am nearly finished (_Finally_) with this entry, I must trudge on, or else I will lose every last bit of motivation to complete it. (I figure that having accurate documentation of all of the emotional and physical trauma I've been through lately might benefit my loved ones, since I'm sure I am well on my way to losing my _sanity_ as a result of all the stress.)

Anyway! After Aldarn gave a swift farewell to all of us before parting ways, Cornelia, sighing heavily as though suddenly stricken with a bout of malady, herself, regrettably turned her attention onto me and asked, "Anyway, what would you suggest we do, then, _Miss Leader_, to carry out this whole . . . _traversing_ thing? Or are you still too _woozy_ from earlier to even do it?"

Was she serious? What was she trying to do, make me lose it and start with _her_, so _I_ look like the bad guy or something? Or did she not even _realize_ she was being extra grouchy? _Or_, was she just being so discourteous because she really _was_ just as tired as I was?

I didn't know the answer to any of those questions, but I did know that I was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode and unleash a _truckload_ of electricity upon the blonde Earth Guardian within retaliation.

"I said I'm _fine_, Cornelia. Maybe that sparing match messed up your hearing, since you seem to have forgotten my having said so just a couple seconds ago," I retorted with an indignant frown, ignoring the shocked stares I was, at that moment, earning from our mutual comrades (which totally was unfair, since Cornelia had been rude all night, and that seemed to be all right with everyone. Yet _I_ say this one thing, and it's like the end of the world, or something). "And I was _getting_ to it. I was about to suggest we each go off individually."

Hay Lin scrunched up her saffron hued face upon hearing this, obviously in objective thought. But then, however, her face relaxed some as she seemed to be in agreement, after all.

"Hmm . . . that doesn't sound so bad. I mean, we would cover more ground in that way, as well."

"True, Hay Lin, but I think that there would be a 'safety in numbers,'" Taranee opened her mouth to interject before I could respond, lightly shaking her raven colored head. "There are, after all, still a fairly good amount of pretty dangerous, leftover beasts lurking about within their natural habitat, after all."

I'd lost my train of thought for a minute there, because I was mesmerized, so to speak, by Taranee and how far more animated she was throughout the entire Meridian visit (and ever since our talk after lunch the other day, actually).

I know!! Totally and beyond late to realize this!!

I'm slow. Sue me!

But with the day and later, night I've had, can you blame me??

But, seriously here. She really was.

Y'know, more like the old Taranee we all know and love. I wonder if it really _wasn't_ just because she was feeling neglected by me and our friendship? And maybe all she needed was a "reach out" from me, like I'd finally done at lunch?

At any rate, I slowly bobbed my head in accordance, taking a step forward with a furrowed brow in contemplation. The girl had a point, I couldn't deny that. I was well aware that there was now six of us again, now that Aldarn had left to perform his own rounds about the palace.

I could easily divide us up into three groups of two, thus guaranteeing each of us had a partner to back the other one up if anything did happen, God forbid.

But I didn't want to be paired off with anyone.

I wanted to go off alone to _be_ alone, finally, so that I could try to sort out my feelings.

Ever since leaving my last class with Matt, I haven't had one moment for myself to just have a breather, not have to deal with any annoying questions about what it's like to be in the spotlight all the time now, or have to deal with Caleb's _rejection_ of me without having to see him right _there_ in my face with every passing second.

I just needed escape, if only for fifteen minutes, or however long our patrol was supposed to last or would take. But I couldn't suggest everyone pair off unevenly while I went off to do my own thing, without raising grave suspicion.

How would I explain it? "Sorry, guys, but I can't stand to be around any of you right now, because Cornelia's being a real _bitch_, and Caleb's a heartless _asshole!"_?

Nice try.

So, all I could say right then was, "All right, all right. 'Safety in numbers.' Good point, Rae. So then . . . _you_ should go to Ereshkigal Ravine with Hay Lin. _That_ way, you'll both be able to 'tag team,' creating something like a fiery maelstrom and scare off anything that might wish to harm you," I then began to delegate as swiftly as I could, because my desire to slumber was at that moment returning, and so was nearly falling asleep on my feet. Couple that with still feeling a bit of pain from my now bandaged arm every now and then with wanting to simply fly away from everyone and just leave them there in Meridian for a couple days, and I was a "happy" camper. "Next, Irma, I want _you_ to go to Tallulah Falls with Cornelia, and --"

"-- Make a huge mud ball with _my_ water and _her_ 'dirty tricks?' Get it?? _'Dirty'_ tricks?" Irma jested with a toothy grin, succeeding in interrupting my train of thought and earning collective groan from the rest of group, while Cornelia stepped toward her with an ironclad, stink eye expression upon her milky white complexion.

Ha. Thanks, Irma. I needed that.

"Oh, my God! _Please_, Will. If I'll have to listen to her make a bunch of cornball jokes like _that_ one the entire time, I'll _throw_ myself into the falls. And you _know_ I'm not good with water!" Cornelia cried with profound ire and both hands thrown into the air, sounding like a cross between a whiny little child, and a homicidal maniac. "Why can't I just go with _Caleb_ to wherever it is you're going to send _him?_"

Well, geez, rub it in my face. I mean, technically, she really wasn't, only because she and Caleb have always gone off together on missions, if all of us had elected to split up.

But still. It's the principle of the thing, Godjen it.

As I continued to mull over my increasingly brooding thoughts, Irma promptly interjected once more.

"_Because_, Cornelia, she knows that you two will just _make out_ the entire-freaking-time, most likely. Either that, or you might very well bore the poor guy into a _coma_, all about how _perfect_ your teeth and hair are," she delivered with a provoking air and exultant smirk riddled across her tawny face, just barely dodging the fairly sized piece of gravel that Cornelia had at that moment projected within the brunette's direction with just a sharp glint of her piercing blue eyes.

"_Hey!_ Irma, you'd better watch yourself, or I --"

"-- Babe! _Really!_ It's cool. It's no big deal whomever I'm gonna end up scouting the territory with," Caleb suddenly then interrupted his beyond fuming girlfriend with great tact, gently setting both of his strong hands upon her delicate shoulders in soothing comfort (which, of course, made my blood instantly run cold and chest to grow tight to have bore witness to. I mean, how could he be gentle and kind to someone like _her_, and especially after the way she tried to end me not too long ago?? Men. I will never figure them out). "But, truthfully, I was actually going to go it alone tonight, instead, because you all know that I prefer it better that way."

Upon hearing this statement, it was then my turn to jump into the proverbial ring and commence my own verbal sparing match, only with the young former Rebel Leader instead of his future blushing bride (although, Heaven help me, if push continues to come to shove, all of the recent verbal tirades Cornelia and I have shared in the last couple of days alone just might shift into something that would put both World Wars to shame).

There was no way in _Hell_ I was going to let Caleb go patrolling alone! Not because I cared or was worried he'd get attacked and eaten by some vicious, unknown creature or something. More power to whatever critter got the honor to do so.

But I mean, yeah. I _did_ care, but not in the way you'd expect.

It was because he was about to ruin _my_ plan to go patrolling alone!!

Not a chance, buddy. Not a chance.

I know I said it was risky to implement because questions might be raised, but I was secretly counting on the stupid, chauvinistic fool to object and request to go alone.

He always does, after all. Well, most of the time, anyway. But Cornelia always manages to persuade him otherwise, and then he goes off into the wild or wherever with her.

In any event, I was ready for him.

"Well, _actually_, Caleb, _I_ was planning on going by myself," I swiftly explained to the newly taken aback young man standing before me, as though I'd suddenly appeared onto the scene and he'd never before laid eyes upon me. "However, you're more than welcome to go off on your own if you still insist, but within the city since you can't fly and would take the longest to return here. Or, you can go meet up with Aldarn. Your choice."

Clearly, he wasn't all that enthused by my formulating plan of direction, nor the "no nonsense" sort of tone I'd heavily lathered my voice within at that moment.

Oh, well.

Apparently, though, neither was Cornelia, (Duh) because she, without fail or surprise, protested with, "Um, hello?? What am _I? _Chopped sushi? I _do_ have wings, you know, not to mention super strength within this form. _I_ can go with Caleb, like I always do, and fly him back, again, just as I _always_ do. Where exactly were _you_ planning to go on this little 'outing,' Will, and why _alone? _It doesn't make any sense when there are six of us, a perfectly divisible group number, thanks."

"I understand that, Cornelia, but --" both Caleb and I began simultaneously (although for separate reasons, I'm sure) in flimsy defense, before swiftly silencing ourselves, also within an echoing manner. I could feel my cheeks growing fantastically warm at that moment, finding myself unable to look away from the shared gaze the brunet and I had then become entrapped.

How was I supposed to get over him, once and for all, while keeping up my pretense of indifference or, as of late, "mock hatred" (that was admittedly becoming less and less fraudulent in recent times), if I was forced to stay around his vicinity for longer than the preferred five minutes max I have alloted for myself?

But, at least for those ten seconds, my only concern was to continue drinking in the sight of those undeniably prepossessing emerald gems of his . . . that which always reminded me of the grand, glorious ocean or vast and luscious grassy knoll that he and I could simply lie upon for eons together. . . .

Hey. That's pretty good stuff. Guess I really _do_ have the soul of a poet, after all. A pretty depressing poet, but poet, nonetheless.

Anyhow, reality swiftly (and thankfully) crashed down upon me after those precious seconds had passed, and I immediately looked away from the noticeably perplexed looking Caleb. I'd also sadly taken notice that his countenance darkened some, as well, as though irritated that I'd been looking at him for that long in the first place. That, and most likely because both I and technically Cornelia, as well, were trying to prevent him from going off alone.

Either way, the pain I'd promptly felt at that moment and cascaded throughout my insides (even more great than the initial onslaught of pain my injured arm continued to project) to have seen said expression was more than enough assistance to get me back on track, and continue on within the facade that there was absolutely nothing Caleb could do nor say to affect me in any way.

And this was, for once, a blessing in disguise, this hurt, because I could see the questioning glances from everyone else (Told you so) beginning to form as to what my silent exchange with the Metamoor native had been about. . . .

So, with a strong, unwavering furrow of my brow, I cleared my throat, rested one hand upon my hip while gently waving the other with a flagrant, disregarding air in attempts to appear unaffected by the previous ongoings.

". . . As I was trying to say, before I was unexpectedly interrupted, it's because it just makes sense, Cornelia," I began as steadily as I could, trying to sound reasonable and still in control of my emotions. "I have _also_ done solo missions before -- All of us have, in fact. So I _am_ capable of looking after myself, if that's your concern. And anyway, I was also going to see if I couldn't at least head towards the _direction_ of that Phocas Chasm place Vathek was telling us about earlier, if not make it there all the way -- You know, to double check that things really _are_ all right over there."

Now that, I definitely should not have said, because the next thing I know, nearly everyone broke out into a sea of resounding disagreement to the idea. And when I say nearly everyone, I meant everyone but Cornelia and Caleb.

No, wait. That's a lie. Because as Taranee and Irma were voicing their concerns one after the other, Hay Lin had taken my place, so to speak, by mimicking my previous act of speaking the very same thought at the same time as her surrogate older brother.

"Then I _really_ don't think you should go alone," the two expressed in unison, Caleb maintaining a neutral gaze as he spoke, while Hay Lin's traditionally cheerful saffron visage was then painted with a mixture of worry and . . . something else I couldn't quite decipher. (What _is_ it with people having cryptic facial expressions tonight, I just noticed? I feel so out of the loop, not able to understand any of them. Sheesh.)

I was touched that she (and Irma and Taranee, yes) cared so much, of course, and would have also been touched that it seemed as though Caleb cared, as well, but I knew better by now. _He_ was only still "fighting" me on who would get to patrol on his or her own, and nothing more.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

In either event, Cornelia was not impressed, nor was she all that sympathetic, as she seemed to have reached her limit of tolerance at that point.

"Will is a _big girl_, you guys!! If the _Princess_ wants to go solo, then _let_ her! Because it's not like she needs protection in every world she enters, after all!" she huffed in blatant vexation, her not so subtle reference to her obvious resentment of my royal title causing me to clench my teeth as tightly as I could in attempts to squelch my anger. "_Either _way, we're wasting valuable time arguing over it!!"

Sensing yet another uproar, Hay Lin startled all of us when she suddenly rose into the air within the blink of an eye and whistled as loudly as she could -- And being that she is the Air Guardian, it was grotesquely loud.

"Hey! Since Cornelia is right in the regard that we're getting no where pretty quick and it _is_ getting steadily later, how about this: Cornelia, _you_ go on ahead and go with Caleb to the Ereshkigal Ravine -- Y'know, since there are more earthy substances there to use at your disposal, and your boyfriend can more than handle himself by . . . I don't know . . . swinging on a couple of vines to help pass the time to impress you or whatever," she teased with a playful wink that was reminiscent of Irma's sort of usual antics, but surprisingly didn't seem to bother Cornelia so much to have seen. In fact, the only sort of response that the blonde had given was a faint smile of appreciation and nod, while her significant other huffed in indignation at the jest at his expense but said nothing in protest. "Next, Taranee, you can pair off with Irma and head to Tallulah Falls and create a dense miasma as a cover should anything unexpected happen and you'd need to get away -- Which I doubt. Plus, Taranee has a _far_ higher tolerance of Irma's jokes by default, so I think it's safe to assume she won't wish to throttle her in the same way Corny might had she gone with her instead. Which will leave _me_ to go with Princess Will to Phocas Chasm if she still insists, or far enough, anyway, before we meet up back here in . . . half an hour or so?"

None of us could say a word as we all peered up the youngest member of the group in utter surprise at her sudden take charge, leader role that was admittedly just a tad out of character for her. She seemed to be able to get the general idea of what we were all thinking, because Hay Lin then playfully rolled her always upbeat, almond shaped and colored eyes from where she continued to effortlessly hover above each of us, before speaking once more.

"_What?? _Oh, don't look so shocked! I _am_ the natural peacemaker of the group, after all!" she gaily defended, shrugging her tiny shoulders lightly. "And besides, if this place _is_ as far to journey by foot as Vathek had described during dinner, even though she'll be flying, if Will might couldn't make it there in time -- Something I doubt, again -- then I certainly could, since I'm the fastest flyer of us all."

I simply raised both hands and eyebrows upon hearing this, not at all insulted by the jolly girl's truthful remark, nor no longer upset. Not at that moment, anyway. But that's because Hay Lin had a pretty good habit of erasing any and all of mine or others' previous irritations and replaced them with nothing but smiles, laughter, or just a general relaxing feeling.

And while I wasn't able to nor felt like smiling or laughing, I was feeling a bit more at ease now that the attention and main focus was more or less taken off of me, and we were finally about to part ways.

After a minute or so of silence, Caleb was the first to speak, shifting his gaze from upward to below, looking at each of us who remained upon the ground.

"Okay. . . I _suppose_ that sounds like a solid plan," he complied, moving to stand beside his girlfriend, who was ready to leave at any second.

"So, all right then. Once we've each finished checking things out over here on the Western front, we can just meet up with you guys over there Photon Chasm or whatever you wanna call it if there's enough time," Irma added with an enthusiastic grin as she stepped off from the ground and joined her best friend into the air. "Just send that mental memo over to 'Ranee, who'll relay it to the rest of us."

I blinked in surprise at this, as Taranee spoke.

"Huh? But I thought we were going to meet back here at the palace?" she asked with a slightly worried tone, scratching away an itch upon her forehead.

Yeah, seriously. It was bad enough that I couldn't finagle my way out of getting to travel alone (which I suppose, again, could have been worse, since I do enjoy Hay Lin's overall company). Now Irma wanted to invite herself and the rest of the gang, as well?

"No, _way, _T! I wanna check out this spooky-ooky chasm, too! I know, I know. I was objecting anyone go at all, right along with you. But now that that the green light's a-go, I don't want to miss out! I'd go _now_, but I miss the good ol' Tallulah Falls. It and I have a lot of catching up to do. . . ." Irma trailed off mysteriously, turquoise eyes glistening with whimsy.

Taranee's chocolate colored orbs darkened some in leery at the sight, before rapidly flapping her own chartreuse, translucent wings to meet the two other Guardians within the sky.

"If that's code for you wanting to do _cannonballs_ again like the last time you were there, then please don't! I don't feel like getting soaked tonight," she warned sternly, although the corners of her full lips could be seen slowly upturning themselves into a small smile.

"Oh, suck it _up!_ You're _Fire_, man! Just _build_ one for yourself or something and you'll be _fine!_" Irma snorted rather loudly in response, just as the others had then begun to part ways,after exchanging quick waves of goodbye, to then carry out their reconnaissance mission before the night soon became morning.

As Irma and Taranee could be heard still carrying on within their lighthearted debate as they flew away in unison, Hay Lin and I, the only two remaining in front of the palace gates, stood (and hovered) in silence.

That is, for a minute, anyway, before I let out an abrupt, tired yawn before swiftly joining the younger girl into the brilliant night sky and said, "Well, we'd better get started if we hope to get there in good time."

Surprisingly, I'd found myself enjoying Hay Lin's company even more than I'd originally expected to. That is, although I'd initially wished to be alone, having her, having _anyone_ there with me, strangely felt a lot more comforting and soothing in contrast.

Of course, granted, it _had_ only been fourteen minutes or so that she and I had begun our unified trek, but still.

I was nonetheless feeling infinitely better than I had been earlier that evening.

And I'd more or less told her so right then, too.

". . . Hey. Thanks for coming along with me, Hay," I began, breaking the curiously comfortable silence that the two of us had maintained this entire time up until then. "I mean, I'd wanted to be alone just so I could get away from it all to think and stuff -- I-I mean, you know, because of all of the recent stress with my uncle and stuff, but I can live with this, too."

Hay Lin merely smiled generously at this, nodding in understanding as she continued to fly beside me with ease.

"It's no prob, Princess Willie! But, I wish I could say this was because I like you that I wanted to come with you -- Which I _do_, of course, but you get it."

I eyed the Air Mistress curiously, taking my eyes off of the landscape below us that the two of us had been surveying to take note of when it'd begin to look a bit more barren, as Vathek and Aldarn said it would supposedly become once we were getting closer to Phocas Chasm.

". . . Yeah, I do, Hay Lin, but . . . wait. Then why did you decide to come along with me?"

Hay Lin returned my questioning gaze with one of her own, a tiny, sympathetic smile forming upon her tea rose hued lips.

". . . For most likely the same reason you wanted to be alone in the first place?"

Remember when I'd said earlier that there was something I could not yet quite detect that "extra something" within Hay Lin's face when she and Caleb had requested I not go off by myself? Yeah, well. I was about to find out what it was.

"Well, what?? I just told you, Hay Lin. I was just gonna think about how much homework I still have after all this is over, and how it's gonna be a pain to go back home where 'everyone' wants a piece of me for one reason or another. . . ." I replied, trying my best not to sound as flustered as I was increasingly feeling.

I let out a soft sigh of relief when I saw Hay Lin slowly nod in what I believed to be agreement, before said relief was completely eradicated once she opened her mouth to speak.

"Yeah . . . maybe . . . but _I_ was referring more so to _Caleb_. . . ."

I could regrettably feel my face become unbelievably overheated, and before Hay Lin could see, (At least I'd hoped not, anyway) I promptly flew on ahead of her some so I could have a chance to recover.

"_C-Caleb? _What about him? Why would I think about _him_, I mean?" I questioned as relaxed as I could manage at that moment, feeling Hay Lin's dark eyes upon the back of my head as she surprisingly continued to fly a bit behind.

". . . Because you like him?" I heard her gently inquisition behind me, which was about all I could take.

"What? I do not!!" I practically screeched with a nearly delirious air, completely shocked by my friend's unexpected query. I was so shocked, in fact, that I'd honestly forgotten to keep flapping my wings and ended up plummeting straight down into the swamp waters below.

Like my body needed more savagery.

Hay Lin gasped sharply in both surprise and concern, before racing down after me.

"_Will! _Oh, my God! Are you all right??" she gushed in affect for the second time that night, hovering at my side and just a couple inches above the murky, brownish-green water I was now unfortunately submerged within. "I didn't mean to catch you off guard or anything when I'd said that! But if you're worried that the others know, they don't! I'm _pretty_ sure, anyway. But what I _am_ positive about is that you _do_ love Caleb!"

"_What?_ No, I _don't!_" I said once again in defense, in between frantically spitting the bland and earthy tasting water from out of my mouth as I slowly sat up and winced at the renewed pain my left arm was awarding me. So much for having a clean bandage. "Why _would_ I? And why try and start drama here, Hay Lin, when I have _enough_ as it is??"

I could feel Hay Lin gently brush away the strands of my matted down, wet hair that slightly obscured my view with one hand, while helping me to stand up out of the muddy water with her other.

"Aww, come on, now, Will. You _may_ be able to lie to everyone _else_ and maybe even _yourself_, but you can't to me -- And you're not even that great a liar, anyhow."

"Oh, yeah, Miss Smartie Pants?? Where's your proof to these mendacities -- Which that's all they are, by the way??" I barreled into the smaller girl with congested defensiveness, even though I was trying to maintain my cool. But I figured Hay Lin wouldn't really find that suspicious, mainly because whether I'm innocent or not, I tend to get a bit overheated, anyhow.

I was too busy trying to desperately ring out the mucky swamp water that was mercilessly clinging onto my clothes, that I did not immediately notice the petite Air Guardian suddenly glide a few feet away from me, as though upset by my outburst. When I finally had, however, I was met with her smirking, knowing visage as she inhaled deeply while raising a delicate hand to her puckered lips, and then letting out a sharp yet gentle wind that immediately enveloped my damp body.

I had to shield my eyes at the rapid, lukewarm wind that swiftly circulated my lithe form and began to free it from the moisture that was beginning to chill it over. And as soon as it'd begun, it was over, and I was able to open my eyes once more to see that I was indeed dry (including the bind for my arm, albeit less white as it had been before) . . . although quite "poofy."

Well, my _hair_ was "poofy," anyhow, once I'd reached up to push a few strands away from my eyes.

"There you go, Princess! You're probably still a bit chilly despite my having 'blown dried' the water out of your clothes, but at least you're better off than before -- Oh! And sorry for the kind of pompom hairstyle, as well," Hay Lin apologized with a small smirk, gently landing at my side. "Anyway! To answer your question, they are not mendacities, as you say, because I'm the Guardian of Air."

My edginess subsided at this due to the staggering confusion that had then enveloped my face. I mean, seriously. I didn't understand whatever correlation the peppy teenager was trying to draw from saying such a simple, yet baffling statement.

And I'd essentially said so.

". . . So?" I questioned with a brief roll of my eyes before giving the other girl a pressing gaze.

It was then Hay Lin's turn to visibly grow a tad frustrated, letting a begrudging exhale, before raising both of her skinny hands to gently lay upon her flat stomach.

"Oh, gee --! 'So?' _Because_ I'm the Guardian of Air, I'm able to tell when you or the others are lying, or are just merely nervous by listening to and paying attention to your breathing patterns. _Yeesh!_" she huffed in mock anger, a tiny smile already beginning to creep back onto her saffron countenance.

I couldn't help but to return the simper, myself, a small but growing blush flooding my cheeks once more at the realization. See what I was always saying before about how it sometimes blows to be endowed with magical powers? This was huge news for me now, because now that meant that, from now on, I'd have to avoid both Taranee _and_ Hay Lin whenever I'd wish to keep something secret.

That would mean I'd either have to stop being their friend altogether, get a lobotomy, or never dare to have inappropriate thoughts or crushes ever again for as long as I'd know them.

Oh, woe is me.

After recovering from my mental calculations on what my next course of action would be in terms of whether to take out an ad within the newspaper for two new best friends or not, I ran a slightly shaky hand through my far less "glamorous" locks before responding.

"New trick, eh? I'm impressed. That might come in handy for the future, whenever we'd wish to interrogate 'the enemy' or whatever," I began, trying to come off unaffected. "But anyway, none of that proves anything, and --"

"-- It does when you give further proof that you're into Caleb by hardly looking at him for long -- If at all -- or talking to him for limited amounts of time, or making it a point to stay as far away from him as possible," Hay Lin remarked knowingly, both her eyes and smile softening as she rested a sympathetic hand upon my shoulder. "Couple these with the fact that your breathing always quickens whenever you're around him? It's a dead giveaway."

Damn it, I say onto thee for the most infinite time!

She got me there. And at this point, there wasn't much point in denying it any longer, either. So, defeated, and biting my lip, I studied my friend's face before speaking.

". . . Well . . . w-well . . . how long have you known . . . you know . . . anyway?" I asked, my voice quivering. I barely can tolerate _Matt_ knowing my secret, and he was one too many.

Hay Lin just shrugged as though I'd just asked her something frivolous.

"I don't really know. I guess maybe like . . . since last August or so, when I'd bothered to focus upon your breathing in passing one time, and made the connection whenever Caleb was around," she revealed, lightly tugging upon one of her pigtails. "And because you were a bit too excited about Eddie's Halloween Ball. I mean, to be fair, we all were, but still. Hmm . . . come to think of it, I guess I also now know why you still don't want to talk about that night and what happened, either. Must have truly sucked to catapult like that in front of Caleb and wear the same gown as Cornelia on top of that! _Wham!_ O-oh! Will! Sorry! I'm sorry, come back!"

I instantly took off flying when Hay Lin kept on with that insensitive rambling. I know she didn't mean to and can and does sometimes get a bit too enthusiastic about whatever topic of conversation she might be carrying on with others, but still.

Low blow.

"Gee, thanks for helping me to relive one of my worst moments ever, Hay Lin. I mean that, thank you," I muttered bitterly through the skies as Hay Lin easily caught up to me from behind. "But, fine. _Yes!_ I _do_ -- That is, _did_ like Caleb, okay? And am hoping Cornelia never, _ever_ finds out about it, so -- Hint, _hint_."

Hay Lin shook her head vigorously, raven colored pigtails swinging about in the air like slithering snakes. "I don't think so, no. Well, not that I can honestly tell, anyway. But I also haven't focused upon her -- That's what I've decided to call my latest skill, by the way, 'Focus.' But, yeah. I've only honestly just 'Focused' on you. And even _if_ I did, I honestly wouldn't be able to know the full story, regardless. anyway. Taranee could, of course, but she's stopped with the unbidden prying into our heads years ago, after we'd gotten so mad at her for always doing so."

I only sighed deeply at this, knowing the validity within her words.

"Maybe . . . just . . . look . . . it's bad enough that you know, Hay. And not to say that I don't trust you, but it's too risky! I've always known that! Having strong, uncontrollable feelings for one of my friend's boyfriend! And even if there had been hope and he had actually liked me back, there's no way we could have pursued a relationship without further breaking Cornelia's heart," I explained, my brief rejuvenation swiftly leaving me and being replaced by my previous great fatigue the longer I spoke about this particular subject. I was mainly surprised that I actually cared again about Cornelia's feelings. "But, anyway. None of that matters or ever did. I'm moving on now, so everything will be all right."

For some reason, this affirmation seemed to tremendously amuse the flighty teenager, because suddenly Hay Lin found herself trapped within a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"'M-m-m-move _on?_' What're you _t-t-talking_ about? I _know_ you still love the guy! We _both_ know this! _Especially_ after the way you'd argued with him earlier about who would go alone when we'd all split up!!" she playfully accused, clasping her hands in a dramatic, swooning manner as she batted her long eyelashes at me. "Quel romantique!"

I blushed furiously, averting my gaze away from the still giggling girl gliding through the darkening sky as the hours became later. It was the first time I'd honestly bothered to focus upon how late it really was becoming the longer all of us stayed here, which of course made my stomach churn all the more than it was already from this mortifying conversation, because I was wondering if my mother or Eli were beginning to wonder if I really was where I'd said I'd be.

I could only hope that Irma's hold upon Ernest and Nova's mind would, well, _hold_, and that Matt was having any sort of luck with "holding down the fort" as he'd said he'd try to do.

But at least, from the view of things down below, it appeared as though Hay Lin and I were finally approaching our destination, judging by how the landscape was noticeably becoming a bit more devoid of substantial life.

At least it hadn't been as long of a journey as I had originally surmised, though.

"It's a good thing it looks like we're almost at Phocas Chasm, because I don't know how much more of this riveting debate I can take," I remarked with a click of my tongue and furrow of my brow. "At least now I can just throw myself _into_ the chasm if you'll keep on with this -- Or maybe just toss _you_ in, instead. But anyway! Do me a favor and just listen to yourself, will you? The things you're saying! Read my lips, Lin! Caleb Virgilio is taken! _Been_ taken! _And_ by a _great_ girl, to boot -- _Our_ mutual best friend too, by the way! And even if he wasn't taken, it wouldn't matter because I'd finally gotten the confirmation I've been needing to get a clue and move on."

Finally, it appeared as though I had stumped Hay Lin, judging by her hazy expression.

"What? Oh . . . that day when you blew up at all of us . . . because of that e-mail love note he'd written to Cornelia and she'd read aloud. . . ." she carefully recalled with a sigh, folding her arms across her chest. "Yeah, I supposed that was a bit much for anyone's heart to take . . . and then, you also gotta put up with them kissing and hugging all the time, too. . . ."

"If this is your idea of a pep talk, Hay Lin, I'd really hate to hear one of your put downs. . . ." I muttered, reaching up to rub the back of my neck with one hand and one of my temples with the other to soothe the mounting headache that was once again returning.

At this, Hay Lin gasped loudly before promptly covering her mouth, her deep brown eyes blatantly reflecting the lament over her poor choice of words when I'd turned my head slightly to see what was the matter.

"Oh, geez! Two for two, Hay Lin! Sorry yet again, Will! Really! I only meant that you didn't need to have that to endure, as well . . . which was why I didn't bother you in gym class, because I knew that you'd probably want to be alone. . . ." she unbosomed, reaching out to rest a hand upon my shoulder in sympathy yet again . . . a repeat gesture I'd found to resonate with my emotions more prominently this time around, because I suddenly found myself lowering all of my previous defenses to at last pour my heart out about the doleful situation.

"Yeah . . . and you know what the worst part is? I'd honestly thought that that e-mail had been for me. . . ." I breathlessly disclosed to my concerned companion, whose eyes widened in a conglomeration of surprise and vague understanding.

"Yeah? But how? Why? I mean . . . because you like -- er, liked Caleb, as you say, but . . . you know . . . h-he doesn't --"

"-- I know he doesn't! I know!" I swiftly interjected, not wishing to allow the other girl to complete her all too present and valid point of how I never once stood a chance with the brave, ex-Rebel Leader. "But he'd accidentally sent it to my e-mail, because me and Cornelia's are close in his address book, I guess, I don't know. And I suppose he must have been rushing the day he'd written it and just sent it to me by mistake."

Hay Lin rubbed the back of her own neck, mimicking my actions, albeit for different reasons.

". . . Ouch . . . I can't even begin to imagine the pain you must have gone through to have realized this, and have to listen to it be read by Cornelia like that. . . ." she murmured consolingly, her voice slightly losing its natural energy.

". . . Right, and I'd rather not re-live it now and be a mess by the time we meet back up with the others. . . ." I stated with a lackluster tone of my own, the both of us at last seeing a darkened object in the distance that resembled what I certainly hoped was the chasm.

"Yeah, I know . . . sorry . . . I mean that, Will. . . ." Hay Lin responded in turn, silence falling upon us thereafter for a couple minutes, although it was welcomed. The both of us understood that there wasn't much else that could be said about this matter that would make it any better or resolvable for me.

But at least I was feeling a bit better to have been proverbially cornered and confronted about this, although if I'd had my way I'd have made sure it never had happened. I trusted Hay Lin, though, of course, and could see how much all of this, now that she knew more about it, bothered her just as much as it did me.

I knew she would never tell anyone else about this, either, not even Irma. After all, Hay Lin wasn't an idiot. She was well aware as I was about the repercussions that would occur if either Caleb or Cornelia ever found out.

After mulling everything over, my fear subsiding some and thus feeling a bit more comfortable to speak more freely, I awkwardly cleared my throat to seize the younger girl's attention.

". . . You know, Hay Lin . . . for the brief time I'd thought it was for me . . . I was beyond happy . . . the happiest I can recall ever feeling, to be honest. . . ." I started in an undertone, my cheeks flooding with a tint of comfortable rouge as I further reflected upon my unrequited love. "Because . . . here was this great and wonderful guy, albeit taken, who noticed me . . . who saw more to me than just the quiet or occasionally shy tomboy, or just another one of his 'co-workers,' so to speak. . . . Those words he wrote . . . when I'd honestly believed they were my words . . . it meant the world to me, Hay . . . it really did . . . because they'd proved to me that Caleb really did see me. . . . Me, not one of the Guardians of the Veil . . . not the Keeper of the Heart of Candracar . . . or just one of his battling comrades. . . . It made me feel that maybe I wasn't invisible to him, after all. . . ."

Visibly saddened at the same time she was moved by my heartfelt admission (something I wasn't very accustomed to habitually doing and she knew it), Hay Lin's brown eyes filled with unshed tears as she spoke.

". . . But . . . you make it sound as though you're so undesired by everyone, though, Will, and that's just not true. . . . I mean, Matt wanted and noticed you, right off the bat when you first moved to Heatherfield, and the two of you had a great relationship. And now that you're a princess, there will be even more guys lined up to be with you. . . ." she reasoned with a small, reassuring smile, wiping away a stray tear that had managed to trickle down her buff hued cheek.

I managed to return the gesture, although my heart wasn't completely in it.

"That all may be so, Hay Lin . . . but each of those potential boyfriends would only just be after the publicity, or my soon-to-be wealth. . . ." I counter responded, the both of us exhaling in defeat. "And with Matt . . . yes, our relationship had been wonderful and I'll always treasure it . . . but I've never felt for anyone -- including Matt -- the way that I still do for Caleb. . . . And now . . . lucky me, these feelings have all been a waste. . . ."

Before I could say or do anything to stop her (not that it would help, I don't think), Hay Lin suddenly let her barricaded tears freely fall as she began to cry, the both of us feeling all the more miserable. The sight of this girl in tears always made me feel automatically depressed, because she resembled a little, wounded and helpless child as a result.

And I always felt just as helpless . . . especially since I was more or less the cause for her weeping.

I instantly stopped moving forward within my flight and placed myself within Hay Lin's direct path to stop her, as well, and merely cradled her within my arms as the two of us hovered in midair.

"Hey . . . it's all right, Hay Lin. Honestly. Although it had been a bit alarming to have you bring this up, I'm over that now," I began softly, making my voice as soothing as possible to try to comfort the smaller girl still sobbing within my embrace. "And here I thought I'd be the one to end up crying over this, too -- Not that it would have been the first time, in all honesty. . . . But listen, really, even though I'm still going to have my ups and downs, good days and bad throughout my process of trying to get over Caleb as soon as humanly possible, I know that there's no other choice. This is just another one of life's lessons, I guess, and the whole part of growing up or whatever, I don't know. . . . But I'm going to be fine, Hay Lin -- I promise. . . ."

Hay Lin slowly lifted her onyx tinted head from off of my chest, her face already red and puffy from her continued crying as she looked up at me.

"I-I know, W-Will . . . but . . . I-I just feel so horrible for bringing everything up!" she cried, furiously wiping away the leaked tears that stained her cheeks with both of hands, before renewed ones fell and regrettably undid the process. "I-I mean, I knew that you had feelings for him, but I never would have dreamed that you would have been carrying around this much pain and anguish all on your own about it for however long. . . ."

". . . About a year and a half, if we want to get precise . . . but it's not a big deal," I halfheartedly assured the other girl, who had managed to raise a questioning eyebrow in the midst of her crying. "I just need time to heal, and then I'll be as good as new. So, don't worry, okay? Just . . . although I'm sure this goes without saying, please, please promise me you won't say --"

"-- Relax, Princess, please," Hay Lin interrupted me with slight force despite her tears, although her watery eyes betrayed her and still retained its softness. "If . . . if I'd planned on making it front page news for and about you, I would've just done so already, instead of wanting to talk to you about it first. But like you just said, this goes without saying, because we both know that I'm not like that. I just . . . just wanted to know if my suspicions about this were all true. . . ."

She suddenly looked as tired as I felt, the longer the two of us remained in place, hovering over the increasingly desolate land below us that seemed to mirror both my despair and Hay Lin's sympathy in recognition to my plight.

Endless and fantastically irreversible.

Heaving a grand exhalation from my toned body, I rested both hands upon Hay Lin's shoulders, who seemed to be calming down some, and faintly smiled.

"I do know, Hay. I do. Better you and Matt be the only ones to know, two people I can trust, than have someone like 'Scary Mary' find out and sell the story to the tabloids or something -- Knock on wood as soon as we find some," I quickly added, shuddering at the horrific thought of precisely how true my whimsical statement really was. After all, I still was waiting for the other shoe to drop where that vengeful girl was concerned, well before I knew I was a princess and it had become common knowledge. "And yes, obviously and unfortunately, your suspicions were true. . . . Just, do me one more favor?"

"Hmm? S-sure, Will . . . what is it?" Hay Lin asked in curiosity, her crying ceased and her breathing patterns beginning to return to normal.

"Remind me to avoid the seemingly heedless, but turn out to be truthful observers in the future," I finished with a small, but growing and genuine smirk, knowing the other girl was catching onto my meaning.

"Will do, Your Highness -- Especially if they happen to possess mystical dominance over Air and all its relations," the raven tressed teenager returned in kind, her naturally cheerful disposition already returning.

And I was just relieved at knowing this, that I actually found her having referred to me as "Your Highness" strangely endearing.

With the two of us feeling a bit better, now that everything had been resolved and with an established understanding, Hay Lin and I were finally free to continue the rest of the remaining distance to Phocas Chasm.

Which, as it turned out, was only around several minutes away from where we'd stopped to take an impromptu rest (which was good, because at the rate we'd been going, it might have been the following week by the time we'd get there).

It was certainly a good thing that Hay Lin and I finished our "Caleb Talk" and she'd managed to calm down before we'd arrived to the chasm, because guess what surprise was waiting for us once we had?

I mean, besides a depressing, ominous canvas of virtual nothingness that enveloped the both of us to and fro, that is?

Yep. The rest of the Guardians, including Caleb.

Don't even ask me how they'd managed to get there before I or especially Hay Lin had; however, being that, again, we had made numerous stops along the way, I suppose that could have been taken into account.

Needless to say, my flight companion and I were greatly surprised, an emotion I'd readily expressed the moment Hay Lin and I landed a couple feet away from the rest of the group.

"H-hey! What are all of you doing here so soon? I thought you would still be patrolling the other areas?" I managed to question calmly, although I felt immediately abashed the moment my eyes momentarily rested upon Caleb, who was thankfully busy looking about his surroundings in a study like manner.

Even Hay Lin, I'd noticed, was flushed some when I'd caught her looking within his direction, as well. I could only pray that the other girls would merely believe that the two of us were just a bit tired from the trip.

But given that it was a well known fact that Hay Lin didn't tire as easily, if at all, as the rest of us might have on occasion when it came to flying, I surmised that it'd have to pray a bit harder.

Thankfully, however, I guess it was merely too dark within the chasm for anyone to have seen from where they stood (change), because no one said a word about it.

And hey. Before I continue on with the rest of this "scene," lemme fill you in about just how deplorable Phocas Chasm truly is. Have you ever been to Sleepy Hollow? I'm referring to the actual place, not trying to quote any lines from the classic tale. Well, anyway, I have -- Once. And only once (and as far as I'm concerned, that's enough times).

It was back in October several years ago, and actually my last year I would have been living in Fadden Hills before I'd moved to Heatherfield. It was also just two days before Halloween, and supposed to be one of those "bonding mini-vacations" between my mother and I, one I was not at all enthused about experiencing. But I guess she was merely trying to cheer me up over my upset at learning that she'd been uprooting me from the only place I'd ever known quite soon.

"And what better way to spend Halloween, than to go the site of one of the most chilling, classic horror stories ever written?" Mom had cheerfully asked after the both of us had climbed into the car (quite reluctantly, on my part), sounding pretty pleased with herself, as though doing this would make me forgive her from taking me away from all of my friends (who all turned out to be massive douche bags, anyway, so I suppose I should thank her for it someday).

Anyway, we had been driving for most of the day, so the sun was already setting.

I kid you not, dear journal of mine, right when we were about a mile or so away from approaching our destination, massive, looming and menacing looking clouds had mysteriously come out of no where, causing the sky to become prematurely pitch black.

No exaggeration.

And it didn't get any better once my mother and I were actually within the "quaint, little town," either. The entire visit, I'd always felt like there was someone, or something watching me wherever Mom and I would journey to, which of course made sleeping such a treat. And those "evil clouds," you might be wondering about? Never left. Not until we had, anyway, because as soon as we had it was nothing but sunshine and blue skies all the way.

Needless to say, that was definitely one of the worst Halloweens I've ever had. Well, not counting this most recent one. Hmm . . . I wonder if Mom had felt uneasy, herself, while there. I never did ask and pretended to have had an awesome time, even saying so when she'd asked me after we'd left. I hadn't the heart to break hers by that time, mainly because I was too terrified to muster any other sort of emotion except fear.

But, judging by the "all smiles" attitude she'd possessed the entire weekend, I suppose not. (That, or she's a pretty good actress, which I doubt)

And, now I know, for sure, you're wondering what was the point in this little anecdote of mine, right?

Well, I thought that would have been clear:

I was ready to crap bricks as soon as my senses came back to me and took in better sight and appreciation (or lack thereof, definitely) for the chasm the six of us were now momentarily trapped within!!

This place could and effortlessly did put "good, ol'" Sleepy Hollow to shame, bar none -- And none of us were even inside of the actual chasm, either.

We'd all had landed on what I suppose you could call the "outskirts" of it, which was just as spooky and creepy as the grand cavernous wasteland would be, I'm quite sure, once we'd moved the remaining fifteen feet or so.

"Well, we were there, Will -- For a bit, that is," I could hear Taranee respond to my inquiry, thankfully jogging me out of my intensifying insupportableness and creepy memory of yesteryear. "But we'd all, after a mental conference, that is, thought it more appropriate, or at least tactful, to follow after you and Hay Lin a bit earlier than planned, just in case you might need our help."

"Yeah, especially since this joint was where all the hype was, after all," Irma contributed with her patented smirk, letting out a loud, lingering whistle into the vast atmosphere from where she stood at the Fire Enchantress's side.

Hay Lin was the first to respond between the two of us, stepping away from me and moved towards her brunette friend.

"Thanks for the concern, you guys. I suppose it makes sense, when I actually think about it now," she said with what I could only assume was another blush forming upon her cheeks, being that she had been the one to have ultimately given out the orders to divide the six of us accordingly. "But, with all of you here, what about the other places? If you'd managed to get here before Will and I had, I can't imagine you'd had enough time to survey each area within its entirety."

"True, Hay Lin, but Aldarn was right. That is, being that when he said that he and the other Meridian guards already frequent said areas a lot, should anything ever go down while we're gone, small or major, they'll be the first to know," Cornelia softly remarked from where she stood, the closest to the actual chasm. Because it was pretty dark where all of us were, I couldn't honestly make out every last feature upon the blonde's face, especially not from where I stood, the furtherest away from her.

However, I could manage to detect a distinct . . . change, if you will, within her. It was even laced within her voice when she'd spoken just then, as well. I wanted to say that she seemed less agitated and more . . . docile?

No. That wouldn't have been the right description.

I don't know.

I honestly couldn't put my finger on what it had been, precisely, but I seemed to have been the only one to have noticed, from what I could tell based upon everyone else's continued nonchalance, more or less.

"Well . . . did you at least get to have fun at the Falls, Irma, before having to drag yourself away?" I prompted after averting my eyes away from the lithe Earth Guardian, trying to sound upbeat and not at all affected by the environment's desolate surroundings, something that was pretty hard to accomplish, given that my insides were steadily becoming pure jelly the longer I was there.

"Hmm? Oh, of course! Well, for the seven minutes I was there, anyway," Irma replied with a knowing grin towards Taranee, who let out a vaguely frustrated sigh next to her. "Which, by the way, was the real reason that we'd all decided to come to this 'Fright fest Chasm' at all, mind. Sorry about screaming like a banshee when I'd immediately dived off the cliff . . . and then drenched you to the bone with my magnificent, perfect ten of a splash, T."

". . . . No, problem, Irma . . . just remind me never to go there with you one on one ever again," Taranee spoke under her breath, reaching up to gently cover both of her ears as though in memory. "That is, at least not without a pair of earplugs, anyway. . . ."

"Well, anyway, we're all here, now, so let's hurry and go further investigate this place before it becomes too dark to even see our own hands in front of our faces," Caleb suddenly piped up, apparently finished with his mental evaluation of the immediate area, as he then gazed at each of us before taking a step forward.

The man certainly had a point. And being that I was spooked enough as it was with the light that remained, I was all too eager to follow suit, until I found myself taking the lead ahead of both he and Cornelia, who was right behind me.

"Y-yeah, seriously . . . although, and thankfully so -- I mean, for Elyon's sake, that is -- even though it's only been about, like, five minutes since I've been here, I'm glad to say that I don't see a threat of any ki --"

I must have been truly affixed upon my congested discomfort in being at Phocas Chasm, because within seconds, I found myself suddenly feeling very queasy, and my vision getting blurry. The last thing I could recall, before everything had gone black, was the sight of Cornelia from behind, who looked exactly as I'd felt and curiously swerving to and fro.

I suppose I must have passed out, because I honestly don't remember ever falling or anything like that. Yet, when I'd opened my eyes again, a couple minutes later, there I was, lying on the cold, milky, grayish ground. Well, that was only partially correct. That is, I had fainted, as my comrades had informed me and I'm about to write them having said so, but I wasn't on the ground.

Well, maybe just the both of my shins and feet, of course, anyway. But the rest of my body? Nope.

Care to know why? Then, I will be more than happy to oblige.

It was because I was lying, unawarely (at first, at least) upon Caleb's strong lap and cradled within his equally strong arms!!

I felt as though I'd died and gone to Heaven the moment I'd realized this, I am not even kidding! Talk about a bad day, one that seemed to trudge on for decades, I might add, turning good!

But then, after I'd allowed myself to revel within my onset of glee for a couple more seconds, feeling quite blessed that it was increasingly too dark to see my face become instantly inflamed, I expertly collected myself and tried to stand.

No go, though. And also no luck in remaining within the dark, either (as backwards as that sounded, being that I was terrified by where I was, I've already established in here multiple times), because Taranee had to go and blow my cover, so to speak, by illuminating the area with the four miniature fireballs she'd at that moment formed with her innate magic. She set them free from both of her open palms where she had created them, and then, further using her Pyrokinesis, sent them each into the air to encircle the six of us as though in protection.

I would have felt a bit more grateful to be able to see properly again, had it not meant that I could then also see Caleb looming over me with an intense look upon his face while he repeatedly, although gently tapped at my face to arouse me. (No innuendo needed, since, not to gross you out, it goes without saying)

It was all I could do to stop from fainting all over again at the elation of feeling his hand caressing my cheek. Okay, so granted, it was more like slapping my cheek, but still. If you had any idea at the numerous times I've fantasized about a moment like this (more or less, anyway), then you'd understand.

But it was then that I remembered that this wasn't a dream, and, moreover, wasn't a private exhibition, and, most importantly, Cornelia was present and only a mere foot away from Caleb and I, hunched over upon the ground, as well, and with Hay Lin and Irma on either side of her in discomfited surveillance.

Wait, a minute.

If I was in front of Cornelia when the six of us had been walking, and she had been nearest to Caleb, and we had both apparently experienced a simultaneous and curious fainting spell, but Caleb was now in front of her instead of behind, then that means. . . .

That means that when he'd caught sight of the both of us falling over, he must have rushed past his own girlfriend to get to me!

But, that can't be! There is no way, not in a million years, would Caleb ever bypass the love of his life in her time of need, to go check on someone he doesn't even get along with -- Especially not in light of recent events, being that Cornelia now dislikes me, as well, and he of course had taken her side in it.

Yet, there was the proof in front of me, clear as day. I was the one curled up, and rather tightly, I had then noticed, within Caleb's arms, not Cornelia.

I didn't even know what to make of this. What could it mean? I know what it definitely didn't mean, of course, that by some miracle he was madly in love with me in turn.

That'd be ludicrous.

But, maybe, just maybe, it meant that he didn't revile me as much as I think? Either that, or it was just merely because no one was in front of me to immediately turn around and save me from crashing down onto the hard, lifeless ground. And being that Cornelia was the closest one to me and she, too, became out of commission, so to speak, I guess Caleb figured he didn't have any other choice but to go after me instead of his beloved.

Geez. I didn't think it was possible, but I think I've managed to depress myself even further about this entire makeshift love triangle, or love line, rather.

My life totally sucks. . . . It has to, when even when something good finally happens between Caleb and I, it's yet again dampened by the harsh reality that not everything is as it seems.

If I were an alcoholic, I'd definitely be needing a drink right about now.

Especially after the look I got from Cornelia when our eyes met, after I'd blindly reached out with one of my hands to regrettably stop Caleb from touching my face any further, thus letting him know that I was indeed conscience once more.

I know I've said it before, but seriously: If looks really could kill, Cornelia would have atomized my body, never mind merely taking my life with the hardened, ice cold expression that settled upon her formerly fatigued-riddled visage.

I honestly forgot myself for a moment, and was about to open my mouth to tell her that I could explain and that it wasn't my fault that her boyfriend caught me first, when I could thankfully hear Hay Lin pipe up and break the chilled silence that had settled upon all of us.

"W-what happened, you guys?? Are the both of you all right??" she inquired with pressing urgency, leaving Cornelia's side once Taranee had left mine, the both of them swapping places, it seemed, as the mocha skinned girl then settled into Hay Lin's former spot and she'd done the same in return.

I couldn't tell you if she had done so on purpose, so that I could get a reprieve from remaining so close to Caleb and under Cornelia's ever watchful eye, no less, despite her own curious affliction, but it was most certainly appreciated.

I'd promptly seized the opportunity to carefully (albeit a bit sadly) roll my body from out of Caleb's momentarily resisting grasp (until he'd realized what I was trying to do, that is, I suppose) and into Hay Lin's awaiting arms, before she and Caleb began to slowly help me to my feet.

"I-I got it from here, thanks," I breathed towards the muscular young man standing at my side, absolutely refusing to further direct my remark towards him by saying his name or looking precisely at him, for fear his fair haired beauty would use it as a sign to add fuel to the the fire that was no doubt continually broiling inside of her at that moment.

I was too afraid to continue on speaking, because I wasn't sure if my feelings would betray me or not. I mean, sure I still continually felt just as nauseated and woozy as I had before I'd lost consciousness, but the worry and mounting butterflies that were flooding my insides at that very moment (and I'm quite sure Hay Lin was taking note of) were more overpowering than anything else right then.

"Go on, Caleb. It's okay -- I've got her," Hay Lin murmured thoughtfully to the brunet who had moved away from the both of us some, having released me, however still hadn't completely abandoned us quite yet. "But I think Cornelia needs more attention right now more than anyone else, because she isn't looking too well. . . ."

It was almost as though he had been within a trance this entire time, and that all he'd needed was a good reality check or something, because the moment he'd heard his girlfriend's name being uttered, Caleb immediately blinked his vibrant green eyes, and nodded in compliance before rushing to Cornelia's side.

It was almost as though he hadn't even been aware that she was still there, let alone sickly, herself. . . .

But that's the key word there, folks.

Almost.

But I know better, by now, after all.

Anyway, with Caleb now taking over Irma's job of rubbing Cornelia's back in soothing comfort, she walked towards me to do the same, she too mirroring Hay Lin's actions from earlier by switching places with her companion.

"Are you all right, Will? I mean, can or do you remember anything that was going on before you just . . . fell over like that?" Irma asked in uncharacteristic, although not uncommon seriousness, her concern for both of her momentarily fallen comrades effortless illustrated upon her tawny countenance.

Feeling that I could speak safely once more without embarrassing myself in any manner, I gently shook my head.

". . . . I don't know, Irma. I just . . . suddenly felt really lightheaded and unable to walk any further. . . ." I replied gently, allowing both girls on either side of me to drape both of my arms behind their necks as they helped me walk over to where Cornelia now stood, leaning her entire weight against her boyfriend despite also having Taranee there to assist her evenly distribute it.

"Do you mean like when you experience a bit or a lot of magical phenomena wherever you happen to be?" Taranee posed the question that had at that moment began to formulate within my own mind as I tried to figure out what could have caused my sudden illness. Well, besides the renewed illness of seeing Caleb protectively encircling Cornelia within his arms, even though I knew it was the right thing to see given the circumstances. (Still didn't make it any easier, though)

After a few moments of silent deliberation, I shook my head once more.

"No, 'Ranee . . . I mean, I was thinking that, myself, just now, of course. . . . But, I don't know . . . I can't really describe it. It felt -- it still feels that way . . . and yet, it doesn't, if that makes any sense," I explained in confusion, my sentiments seeming to emit themselves onto the others for they too then appeared befuddled.

"Well, geez! Now I know you'd hit her too hard earlier tonight with your -- Well, _her_ attack, Corny! Because now, not only is she not making any sense, but the physical repercussions are catching up to her! Way to go!"

"Oh, _oh!_ So here we go! Back to that! Now it's my fault she's suddenly Miss Fragile and collapsed? And what? You're gonna say we're physically connected? Because in case you haven't notice -- Which you probably haven't -- I got hit by the same wave of fatigue, too!" Cornelia hissed at the accusatory brunette.

"Guys, please! Don't fight! It could be serious what the both of you are feeling right now," Hay Lin scolded, raising a hand to silence both feuding girls.

"Hay Lin's right . . . we'd better get you back to the palace and get you checked out, before Folding back to Earth," Caleb quietly suggested.

I shook my head at this. I wasn't going all the way back to the palace. I just wanted to get out of there, and go home, point blank.

"No. Well, I mean, _I'm_ fine, really. It's . . . probably just the fact that I didn't get much sleep last night and then came straight here after school before training a bit . . . I'm just tuckered out . . . but we can bring Cornelia back if she --"

"-- I can make it if _you_ can, Will . . . I'm starting to feel better now, myself. . . . Just was a bit woozy, is all. . . ." Cornelia remarked with a determined glance, although it immediately gave way the moment the both of us clutched at her our heads at the same time.

"It's not a competition, Cornelia. This is _serious_. I don't want you ill. . . ." Caleb lightly criticized, stroking his girlfriend's arm.

Cornelia looked up at him in an instant right then, glaring in embarrassment. "Don't you think I know that? Let's just . . . Fold _here_ and go, and then over the weekend we can come back to investigate some more. . . . _Now_ my head's throbbing. . . ."

"Hmm . . . must be from all the yelling and grouchiness she's done all day to all of us all day -- Well, mainly just me and Will, but still," Irma murmured to Hay Lin, who exhaled slowly in defeat, knowing what would next ensue.

"I _heard_ that! If you _must_ know, it's because I have my . . . '_friend_' right now that I'm finding you so irritating. . . ." the blonde Earth Mistress revealed in anger, blushing furiously due to having her boyfriend being present during her admission (although he didn't seem to get the meaning, lucky her).

"Huh . . . then you must have one _very_ low blood count if your . . . '_friend's_ always the cause for your usual 'Grinchy' behavior towards me. No _wonder_ you'd collapsed! It all makes _sense_ to me now!" Irma countered at the drop of a dime, sticking her tongue out in satisfaction towards the fuming, sickly girl.

"Just Fold us out of here _now_, Will, please, before it's too late and these two make this place even _more_ barren by _obliterating_ one another! Irma and I will help you if you need to lean on somebody, and Hay Lin and Caleb can help Cornelia. Then, once we're through, we can all head to the Silver Dragon for something warm to drink to help you feel better, before going home, okay?" Taranee suggested thoughtfully, moving closer to me, as I shook my head again.

"Really, though. I'm fine. I'd much rather just head straight ho -- Well, the _Plaza_, and go to bed. . . . Then I guess, wake up later to do my homework and finish the rest in Study Hall or something," I replied as I opened a new Fold into the deadened atmosphere.

"Yeah, and _I'd_ just really like to go lie down, myself. . . . My cramps are starting to kill me." Cornelia lightly groaned, already leading the way, with Caleb and Hay Lin's assistance, towards the sparkling gateway.

"Well . . . besides you guys suddenly not feeling too hot, at least it was a very . . . positively productive day!" the Air Guardian tried to deliver as upbeat as possible, obviously hoping to end this relatively disastrous outing on a more positive note.

Not to mention that I kind of understood her vague double meaning that only I would or could take note of, to which I immediately blushed at while allowing Taranee and Irma to lead me into the Fold after the trio before us had successfully gone through.

In _that_ regard, Hay Lin, I guess it _had_ been. . . .

After such an eventful, grotesquely jam packed day, the sight of this flipping Plaza never looked so good to me before now. Bright lights illuminating every room you head into and out of instead of everlasting darkness; hotel and royal security watching your back to ensure a good night's rest, instead of possible ambush from God only knows what could or couldn't be lurking back within that chasm; and warm food, warm clothes and bed to greet me in comfort, instead of the cold, dreary and hard barren ground.

Just the right cup of tea to (temporarily) wash away all that ails me on a habitual basis in the last two weeks.

After making it through the Fold and sealing it up with the Heart of Candracar before extracting mine and the other Guardians' powers to return us back to our normal forms, I looked down at my wristwatch to check the time.

And as expected, despite the near "all-nighter" we'd all pulled over in Meridian, it was still only (time), which definitely made me feel better. The only thing left remaining to make this a truly successful mission was to go check on Ernest and Nova, the two of them hopefully still under Irma's thrall from before.

Turns out, they surprisingly had been, when we'd found them, after gathering up our things from the library and exited through a back entrance (which was very convenient, however not needed, since the building had been nearly cleared out by the time we'd returned), colorfully surrounded by an array of empty hot dog containers from where they sat upon one of the park benches a couple blocks away.

The expressions upon each of their faces was priceless, a blanched, sunken look of indigestion with the undoubtedly full stomachs about ready to pop.

"Oh, gee -- I guess I should have instructed them to do something that didn't involve O.D.'ing on a mountain of franks, huh? You'd just better pray that neither of them does a 'repeat performance' with their food by _regurgitating_ all of it onto one of your priceless royal attire later on, Princess," I heard Irma jest with relish from behind me as I peered down at the stoic and unwavering protectors they used to be, and winced slightly with guilt at the clearly nauseated and miserable pathetic masses that they now were.

I could only imagine what Eli would say once he'd decide to have a private conversation with the one or both of them, like a progress report or something, later on. I know next to nill about the guidelines bodyguards are supposed to follow as I've expressed a couple times before, but I don't believe they're allowed to eat or drink much of anything while on duty.

And certainly not of this quantity. I mean, I imagine it'd be pretty hard to run after a would be kidnapper with a stomach full of chilly dogs and soft serve ice cream, you know? But, hey. I'm thankfully not a bodyguard, so don't quote me on this.

Regardless, I would have to make up some excuse to my ever-nagging uncle, something about how I wanted to get to know my protectors and decided to treat them to hot dogs and chit chat. The last thing I needed on my regularly tumultuous conscience was knowing that I would have gotten yet another one of Marsily's "finest" fired, and this time twice over. . . .

"L . . . let's just get out of here, before our luck runs out, all right? Irma, would you please snap them out of it?" I asked with a sigh, shaking my head slowly as I snapped myself out of my already mounting worries, warily beginning to clean up the sea of fast food wrappers around the still dazed duo.

"Yeah, seriously. It's a marvel that this part of the plan had gone off without a hitch, especially since it _was_ Irma's handiwork," Cornelia teased with a growing smirk, satisfied to at last turn the tables upon her brunette counterpart in every sense of the word, watching Irma's back tense up in indignation as she placed herself before my bodyguards.

"Sure. Come back at me twenty years from now and say that _again,_ once your flashy good looks and 'womanly wiles' have left you. _Then_ we'll see who has the last laugh and how 'useless' my powers of influencing the mind in believing whatever I want them to is," Irma muttered underneath her breath with a sharp exhalation and obvious implication before concentrating, blocking out Cornelia's great huff of offense.

. . . . And that's what happened.

Well, I mean, after Irma brought Ernest and Nova out of their magical funk, if you will, and all of us walked back to the limo (that was still waiting out in front of the library's main entrance, surprisingly) to drop everyone back at school to retrieve their vehicles before at last parting ways for the night.

I'm just glad there's only one more day left of school this week, before I get to enjoy a glorious, sleep induced weekend. Well, granted I'll have to spend the majority of it catching up on my homework and start my projects finally . . . oh, and hopefully not have to deal with "Princess Work" at the same time, of course.

But still. There won't be waking up early involved, so I suppose I can survive.

You know, what? Of all of the things that are rapidly racing through my tired mind, running over what happened all day, the thing that stands out the most is how I am honestly unable to wrap my mind around the whole Hay Lin knowing that I have . . . er, had a thing for Caleb, (Oh, who am I kidding? It's still "have," but I firmly believe that referring to it in the past tense more often than not will speed up the process of getting over him) all thanks to her stupid, nosy "windy" abilities.

Because now it's making me wonder if she hadn't always possessed this gift all this time, for years, that is. And if so, that would make her quite the "Slick Rick" about it, wouldn't it?

God, why can't I ever develop awesome and useful tricks like that? Because then I wouldn't have to lose my mind over anything ever again. I could just pay attention to their heart rate to learn if someone has the hots for me or not.

Oh! I should totally ask Hay Lin to "Focus" on Caleb, and see what she can't dig up in regards to me. Well, I'm tempted to, anyway. But I'm pretty sure she'll just shoot down the idea steadfast, and tell me how it's "probably better for your sake and everyone else's that I don't do that for you, Will."

Yeah, because I wouldn't want to have further concrete proof that he absolutely abhors me . . . although, there was the whole catching me over Cornelia when we'd both collapsed back in Meridian (which is definitely quite the mysterious occurrence. That we'd both fainted like that. I mean, I can honestly say it's just because of my fatigue and Cornelia's cramps or whatever like she said, but still. At least I'm feeling better now, though, so I suppose it was nothing, after all). . . .

Argh!! We've already gone over this, Will!! That didn't mean anything! He can't stand you, remember? And he'll exhibit that all the more, once you begin tutoring him for his poetry, like Ms. Wojick had deplorably instructed you to do. . . .

Annnnd, the depression has set in once again.

Whatever. That's the least of my problems right now. (A miracle, right?) Still have my homework to do before I can allow sleep to claim me.

Sigh. I suppose it's a good thing, then, that Caleb and I were never meant to be, because if I ever had become his girlfriend, I wouldn't be the best one, since I'd either be passed out half the time or extremely Neurotic.

**-- End of Chapter Forty**

**(A.N. HOT DAMN!! FORTY-SIX blasted pages of HELL. NEVER again. Methinks I'm gonna stick to short chapters, that are like, 400 words per. LoL But no. Phew! Finally, eh? I'd like to SEE someone complain about wanting more after this long arse doozy. TRY it – Not in the mood. LoL But yeah. I'm sure I WILL get some blah blah questions of this and that, or comments of something being long or short or SOMETHING!! But all I can say to that is . . . oh well? LoL You win some, you lose some. I hadn't planned on it stretching out to thirty pages, but I did always know it'd be long since I wanted to finally do a featured chapter about Guardian business, have all of them interact and be present together for once, as WELL as have that ever present saga that Will's always on about, a.k.a. Being in love with her best friend's boyfriend, yadda yadda yadda. LoL But hey. At least I'd treated you all once more with some of that W/C curious interaction, and what it does/doesn't mean, yeah? Oh! And sorry to all you Corny lovers. Again, I'm NOT trying to make her be this overbearing b.tch, I swear. It's just coming off that way when the dialogue and ideas pour out of me, especially since I view this Cornelia a mixture of both her comic and animated incarnations – more so the latter, but yeah. LoL Anyway! Don't ask when I'll have the energy to post the following chapters I've already written, also ages ago, but if you've added this to your alerts, you'll know regardless. Review, please! Thankies! Oh, yeah! And I was going to do a blurb about Elyon's passing birthday, since it IS on Halloween, and it HAD only passed a couple of days before the girls and Caleb went to go see her just now, but it honestly was dragging out their meeting scene longer than I wanted to, so I took it out. Just know that she got a bunch of really cool stuff from Cornelia, Hay Lin and Irma, and Will was mortified to realize she'd forgotten all about Elle's birthday. LoL)**


	42. Chapter Forty One

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Six reviews? SIX, for the forty-six pages of Hell I had to endure for yooze guys?? Yeesh. LoL Ah well. Six is better than zero._

_Know what I just realized? This entry, in Will's world, I mean, will make it a whole new week on the dot. Yet, in OUR world, it's been just about TWO YEARS since it was "last Thursday." LoL Crazy. LoL The LAST Thursday, if anyone remembers, Will was still sick with the cold and stayed home. Weird. LoL_

_Can't believe it'll be two-years-old, this story, soon. Woooo. LoL_

_Anyway, since I got six reviews for the last, long-arse chapter, and I still don't have a set computer yet (which was why it's taken so long to come back, yeah) and only can borrow my sis's laptop here for set times by chance/luck and for a little bit, I want to try to squeeze in as many new chapters as I can. Here's a SHORT one, because no one seems to like long ones. LoL_

_Oh, right. And sorry, KnightofFaerun, that I don't name the chapters. It'd been too weird to do so, since these are all just diary entries of Will's, and I highly doubt she'd label them like that. I might, but I don't think she would. LoL Your only "hope," I guess, to keep track of everything, is to go by or pay attention to the entry dates, and times, even, in case there are multiple entries on the same day._

_Sorry to everyone else who might have stopped reading this, came back, and got confused as to what happened last. LoL_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in December 2007.

* * *

**Chapter Forty One**

**Thursday, November 9th, 7:13 am,**

"**My Bedroom" Inside of the Presidential Suite of the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel**

I honestly thought I'd gone blind for a second, there, when I woke up this morning.

I really did.

Like, maybe it had been from a result of sleep deprivation or the like.

But after I managed to calm myself down some from the initial shock, I realized that it was only _snowing_.

Hard.

Complete _blanket_.

And even though I saw this, I still forced myself to begrudgingly drag my body out of bed -- _Especially_ once I saw my alarm clock read six forty-eight am, thus making me late for school _yet_ again.

I nearly swore out loud as to what good is it to have have 'round the clock service in this lavish joint, if no one bothers to do a simple task of _waking you up?_

I was thinking that I was better off requesting daily wake up calls from the actual hotel staff from now on, when Eli, of all people, pops into the dimly illuminated bedroom, already dressed in one of his usual suits and ready for the new day.

"Ah . . . I see the Princess has awaken under her own power this time," he spoke with a tiny smile upon his lips, moving over towards my grand windows to open the remaining curtains that I had neglected to close the previous night. "Although, it is, of course, by _this_ juncture, no longer a surprise that you could and _would_ manage to do so upon a day that does not readily require it."

Huh? What's he on about, _now?_

Today's a school day, guy, and I am going to be pretty late. Of _course_ I'm required to wake up early! If _anything_, Eli should be pulling out his hair (as funny as that would have been to witness right about now), once again vexed that his "very troublesome niece" has caused even _more_ problems for him.

Not to mention for his crack team of stylists who work their magic on me everyday, as well.

But Eli remained calm, his back to me and peacefully peering out at the continually falling snow.

And there also weren't any maids, or Malvina and Mabelle bursting through the doors to feverishly plaster my face full of renewed makeup.

There was only silence for once, and it honestly scared the _crap_ out of me.

". . . Where's my mother? Why is it so _calm_ right now? And how come you're not exploding out an _ulcer_ right now, being that it's running so late?" I suspiciously asked in a groggy daze, rubbing one of my eyes with one hand, while my raising my other into the air as I stretched.

". . . Wondrous sight, snow is," Eli murmured with a curious air, back still kept to me and bejeweled hands clasped lazily behind it.

What?? Did he not just hear me?

What's the matter with him?

Maybe he was drunk.

I mean, I highly doubt that, because other than the occasional wine with dinner, Eli doesn't strike me as a fan of imbibing large quantities of alcohol. But it is the only explanation I can think of at the moment, and the only reason that makes sense for how and why my usually uptight and pretentious uncle was currently behaving so placidly.

And with _me?_ It is _never_ just a simple walk in the park for this man when it comes to me.

I make _sure_ of it . . . for the _most_ part, anyway.

I was about to ask what was the catch as I slowly began to climb out of bed, when Eli continued on.

"I don't suppose you've yet realized that it is, in fact, blizzardy at this very moment, and so therefore there isn't any need to rise from your bed this early?" the King of Marsily inquired with distinct humor within his suave voice, at last turning around within his place to gaze upon my perplexed expression.

Blizzard? "No need to" . . . oh! _Now_ I get it! It has to be a snow day!

YES!!

No _wonder_ everything was so laid back! Man, can _I_ really be slow in the mornings.

"Oh . . . no school today," I said in realization, yawning thereafter. The both of us paused for a moment after this, sharing, what _I_ would certainly classify as a bunglesome sort of glance.

Well, it would have been, except that my sleep-hazed brain didn't rightly care then, and so I only continued to look back at him with my droopy brown eyes.

Eli, meanwhile, didn't seem to really mind, himself, because he just gave me a simple, content nod before turning back to the grand window.

". . . Indeed," he replied with a distracted, far away tone, before swiftly whirling around yet _again_, clasping the both of his ornamented hands together. "Well! I suppose, then, I will leave you to your rest, and see you a bit later on. Sleep well, Wilhelmina."

And then he left.

. . . . I'm thinking that, seriously, I might have dreamed that whole sequence, to be honest with you.

_My_ uncle, relaxed? "_Normal?_"

It _was_ a dream, straight up. The only explanation.

But, either way?

I DON'T HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL TODAY, AND I CAN SLEEP IN!!

WOO-HOO!!

**-- End of Chapter Forty One**

* * *

**(A.N. Yes, I know it was short. I said it'd be, didn't I? LoL I made and wanted it short on purpose. I like to flip flop between long and short entries for Will. Her next one will be about average size, I believe. I've written it, but I might get inspired and put in more. But at least lost prince got their fill, because Eli was sorely missed for them in the previous chapter. LoL I bet his behavior in this one has scared some of you. No worries, dear children. Everything I've done thus far in this story, in the "make you notice it" sense, has all been for a reason, so yeah. Maybe we'll find out what's up with him later on. LoL So yeah! Lemme know what you think of this one, and what you think/thought of the previous chapter, because that one, especially, is real important for me to actually know opinions of/about. Thankie!)**


	43. Chapter Forty Two

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _OMG!! She's back! Yeah, yeah. I know. Lemme alone. LoL Honestly, I've had this sitting on my computer for a WHILE now, and have up to five future chapters pretty much set. But I just have been REALLY lazy and turned off to the idea of having to SIT here, and type everything out, THEN have to go back and edit and/or add things. And writing it out manually, as I normally do, is also a "bleh" for me. LoL After that monstrously long chapter forty, I've just been SUPER "no no no!!" about having patience to write ANYTHING out, fanfic wise, even though all of the ideas and chapters are ready to go. LoL Too bad I couldn't just hire someone to write them for me . . . hmm. . . . LoL_

_Anyhow! So yeah. Back, as I'm sure a lot of you are very happy to see (especially since I've been getting a lot of new fave and alert adds recently – Perfect timing for you, then LoL)._

_Then, enjoy, my friends, enjoy! And then, review, my friends! Review! LoL_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in August 2008.

* * *

**Chapter Forty Two**

**Thursday, November 9th, 12:52 pm,**

"**My Bedroom" Inside of the Presidential Suite of the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel**

_Oy_.

What a day I'm already having.

I mean, granted, it hasn't (so far, anyhow) been _as_ bad as the last couple of days, but the fact that I actually thought drama would not have ensued on this new day was pretty idiotic.

Still, at least it wasn't anything _too_ major. Just the usual -- _You_ know, "Unkie Eli" getting on my _last_ nerve, as always, while continuing to take over my entire _life!_

Just when I actually thought this guy was . . . well, I wouldn't say loosening up, but just. . . . Well, you know what? I honestly don't have any words to efficiently describe how I believed he was beginning to transition into during the last day and a half.

I just know that he wasn't _as_ aggravating as he's always been (but, it did also help that I had massive social _and_ Guardian issues to contend with to keep me distracted, so yeah).

Anyway!

It doesn't matter how I felt before, because now, _now_, I can't stand him all over again!

Because he's making me go out to dinner with him tomorrow night!

Come on! It's a _Friday!_ Time to relax and have _fun_, in addition to maybe hanging out with friends or definitely _sleep_.

_Not_ have to be caught in _public_ with one of the world's most _uptight autocrats!!_

This is _so_ unfair! I tried to get out of it, but there was no go.

Well, I was _going_ to try to get out of it, but I was shot down before I ever got the chance.

Ugh. Let me just start at breakfast. I don't know _why_ I always do that, barreling into things before starting from the logical place of the beginning.

I woke up around ten o'clock this morning, which was pretty surprising, as well as _disappointing_, since I wanted to sleep _a lot l_onger . . . maybe until _midnight_, for example.

But, of course, I _couldn't_ sleep.

How is that even_ possible? _To be _dead_ tired, yet unable to get a good night's rest.

Story of my life.

So, _since_ I'd woken up early enough, I figured I might as well be "responsible" and finally, _finally_ finish the rest of my homework, and start on my stupid projects for Economics and Public Speaking.

But first, I needed brain food.

Wrapping the fancy-schmancy robe the hotel staff had given to me for free (among many, _many_ other complimentary goodies I could sell and garner over five hundred bucks for them or more, easy), I quietly crept out of the bedroom to head towards one of the two kitchens.

I couldn't help but to let out a startled, then relieved gasp once I'd laid eyes upon the elegant looking, Indian Red colored armchair (that I sometimes catch Eli sitting on when wishing to be near the fireplace) was empty. I was mainly surprised because I saw that the console table was a bit stacked with various papers and important looking documents.

So I knew that Eli had to be nearby _somewhere_. . . .

I figured he probably either went into his office, or left the suite, period. But as I looked out the grand window near the armchair, I quickly dismissed that final note.

It was _really_ piling up out there, as I could see when I'd moved closer to the window before leaving the area, so I really didn't think Eli _could_ have left the premises, after all.

But, maybe he'd gone into one of the other _gazillion_ rooms that are evidently his, as well, since this entire top floor's private to only he, my mom, and I.

Well, I was _hoping_ that he was somewhere away from here, anyhow.

So, anyway, I resumed my trek over towards the kitchens to make myself a quick bowl of cereal (That is, if this joint even _had_ something as "common" as that, anyway), when I was once again met with the irresistible, distinct aroma of fresh bread, eggs, and the sound of . . . _humming?_

_Maybe one of the cooks is in there, busy with fixing brunch or something for His Majesty, while musically entertaining themselves_, I mused silently as I approached the closed, swinging kitchen door, rolling my eyes heavenward and smiling lightly at the amusing scene I was undoubtedly about to witness. _I'll just pop in, grab a bowl and cereal if I can find some, and I'll be on my way._

Let me tell you, journal. While I was indeed about to witness a display, it was not at _all_ what I had been expecting.

Not by a _long_ shot.

As soon as I swung open the door, I immediately regretted it.

Why? Why do you _think??_

Because there, with sleeves uncharacteristically rolled up, while his usual suit jacket was no where in sight, was _Eli_.

What was he doing, you might ask? The better, more _appropriate_ question would have been what _wasn't_ he doing??

The man was surrounded by an array of assorted food ingredients, fresh as well as packaged, while he busily minded over the two stovetops he had going, in addition to the oven in the corner. His back was to me when I'd entered, so didn't seem to yet realize he now had an audience (and with all of his humming, I wasn't surprised).

That was fine with _me_, since I had then, at that moment, decided that I could forgo food for a couple of hours, and was about to do an about face . . . when Eli just _had_ to find that he apparently needed a bit more ingredients that were left on the kitchen island behind him.

"Oh!! _Mon Dieu!_ Wilhelmina! I do believe that you've startled me!" he gasped with a faint smile that honestly sent a frightened chill down my spine once I saw it. Whenever this man smiles, and towards _me_, you _know_ that it's _never_ a good sign.

Still, I was finding it a bit hard to find my uncle as menacing as he normally is, mainly because he was looking as though the blizzard outside had somehow come _inside_ while I was asleep, hit him, and ended up messing up his usually well kept self.

In addition to not having on his suit jacket, Eli also didn't have on the usual platoon of expensive jewelry upon his fingers. Nope. In place of all of these was the wheat colored apron draped around his waist, and light speckles of flour that decorated his tawny face . . . whether he was aware of this, or not.

You can imagine the millions of questions that were then beginning to race throughout the old noggin' by that point, primarily whether or not I _shouldn't_ still just back away, leave the kitchen, and merely pretend I'd never witnessed such a thing.

Well, come _on_, now!

It _is_ Eli, here, and anything has and does go with him. What if this was some sort of trick? Of _what?_ Well . . . I hadn't thought that far just yet, but I'm sure it had to be _something!_

I didn't really have time to think further into it, because the guy seemed to have read my thoughts, as he suddenly spoke again.

"For once, _speechless_, I see," the king of Marsily remarked with light humor trickling within his voice, before waving a hand towards the table on the other side of the pretty spacious, elegant kitchen. "Well, _since_ you're awake once more and are here, you might as well take a seat."

". . . . Take a seat? What _for??_" I stupidly asked, my mind still reeling from the continued bizarre-o display playing out before me. I gently scratched my disheveled head, as though for emphasis, while remaining planted within my spot and watching Eli turn away from the kitchen island in between the both of us to resume his cooking.

"I am going to simply assume that you have not yet _completely_ woken up, Wilhelmina, for having posed such a farcical inquiry," the dark haired monarch muttered, a bit more so to himself than to me, before waving his shimmering, silver spatula blindly towards the table once more. "Now, please. _Sit_. I've almost had brunch ready."

Brunch? _He's_ making brunch?

_Eli? _

Stuffy, boring, rigid and _uptight_ Eli, who always has servants waiting on him, hand on foot? He, the same pampered man, was _singlehandedly_ making a meal . . . that honestly didn't smell too bad??

WHAT WAS GOING ON??

Too much in a daze to outright harpoon the dude with a barrage of inquisitions quite yet, I simply did as he'd suggested and slowly made my way, like a _zombie_, over to the already set up table. Just as I'd taken a seat, Eli began to hum once more, the same tune, from the sound of it (even though it was still unrecognizable to me, personally), for a couple of seconds, before beginning to, of all things, _sing!_

"Dominique, nique, nique, s'en allait tous simplement. Routier pauvre et chantant. En tous chemins, en tous lieux. Il ne parle que du bon Dieu, Il ne parle que du bon Dieu. . . ." Eli softly sang the happy sounding piece to himself, keeping a steady tempo with his left foot, while flipping over what looked to indeed be eggs within the pan before him.

_Oookay . . . now I __know__ I've completely lost it. The man is now singing a merry little tune, looking like __anything__ but a king, and . . . __cooking__. Yep. Definitely lost it_, I thought to myself in mounting puzzlement, as I could only silently sit perfectly still and watch Eli with increasingly widened eyes.

The cooking was one thing. Very odd and unexpected, yes, but I suppose I could eventually let that slide. But _singing?? _

Now, _that_ was just plain creepy.

I began to wonder whether or not this person before me wasn't really some some sort of android-lookalike, clearly sent to _make_ me go insane, and whether or not I shouldn't get a cup of water or something to throw on him in order to see if his inner circuits would become faulty. But then, Eli suddenly stopped with the singing and turned off the stove.

"Ah . . . c'est magnifique," he murmured in French, once again to himself with a small, proud smile, before moving away from the stove with pan in hand and making his way towards me. "I dare say you will enjoy this, Wilhelmina."

At this, my senses finally caught up to me, and, with an extended breath, I started blurting out, "Okay, _seriously_, here: _Who_ are you, and what have you done with my stingy, overbearing uncle, who just _loves_ to see me stressed and become very rattled?? _Moreover_, why are _you_ cooking -- And for _me_, no less?? I didn't even know that you _could_ do anything domestic like that! Oh! And what's with all the _singing?_ What was that, _French_ again, I think? French, right? R-right, yeah, I'm pretty sure that it was. . . ." I trailed off once I'd run out of air, my mouth hanging open and brown eyes buffed out in accusation, although I'm pretty sure I must have looked like a freaking _Bushbaby_, instead.

The plus side, though? True to form, the "old" Eli came back just then. Or, at least, the frequent irritations he experiences whenever dealing with me and my so called "_bad manners_" had come back, anyway, as he immediately let out a heavy, perturbed sigh before clicking his tongue.

"Oh, for Heaven's Sake, Wilhelmina! _Clearly_ you either need a tad bit more sleep, _or_ a swift reminder of respectful conduct and etiquette with those older than you -- I have yet to decipher which," he began with a distinctly put off, although tired sounding air, gently sliding the finished egg dish onto the empty, expensive looking plate before me. "However, I _do_ suggest that you calm yourself. I am doing absolutely nothing wrong, as you can plainly see. _Yes_, it is I, for who else would have found your blathering as _galling_ as I currently find myself perceiving it? Although, to refer to me as 'stingy' and 'overbearing' _is_ a tad much, I would say. After all, I did not _have_ to create this meal for you -- Which is quite wonderful, if I do say so, myself -- now, did I? Now, _please_ do me a favor, if you are able to find it within yourself to do so, Wilhelmina, and _silence_ yourself by eating the French Omelet I have made."

"Okay, cool, because for a second there, I thought that I really _wasn't_ still dealing with the typically _obnoxious_ king I have the distinct honor of being related to," I remarked with swift bitterness dressing my tone, folding my arms across my chest in blatant refusal to eat one morsel of the . . . pretty _delectable_ breakfast placed before me . . . _and_ even though my stomach was then beginning to growl ferociously, _especially_ the more the omelet's delicious aroma continued to waft up and into my nostrils.

This totally wasn't fair.

I mean, all I'd wanted was a peaceful morning, free from Eli (even though it'd still be filled with doing lots of catch up work for my homework), while eating a simple bowl of cereal and maybe drinking a glass of orange or apple juice as my quick breakfast.

But now, I'm sitting here, nearly dying of hunger, wanting _desperately_ to eat the freaking eggs the guy curiously cooked apparently just for me, and getting a _migraine_ arguing with him once again!

Oh, life. She is a cruel, and ironic beauty, she is.

"I'm not very hungry, thank you very much," I could then hear myself saying like an idiot, instantly wanting to beat the tar out of my own self for having said such a thing.

Damn, my accursed pride and unrelenting suspicion.

"Is that so? Are you sure? It would be a shame to let such a wonderful work of culinary art go to waste," Eli called over his shoulder, from his place before the oven, in blatant amusement, already seeming to know full well that I was merely bluffing. "Especially when my croissants are just about done, from what I can see."

_Ohhh_, man. Did he say . . . _croissants? _I absolutely _love_ those freaking things!! Mom and I used to wolf those babies down together nearly every Sunday morning for breakfast. Well . . . up until this past summer, actually, now that I think about it.

I suppose, now, it makes a bit more sense, since that was around the time she'd started acting wonky on me overall, anyhow -- _Clearly_, I'm now aware, because of all _this_ nonsense. That, and she might have probably eaten them back in Marsily when she was my age or something, since Eli, too, seems to enjoy doing the same.

Guess the realization or memory might have caused her too much stress, or whatever.

_Speaking_ of, I began to wonder where she was right about now. I doubt that she'd dared to brave the storm and headed into work, regardless. She might have been still asleep, because there seriously was absolutely _no_ way she could have been able to ignore the wonderfully wonderful smells continually saturating the kitchen, otherwise.

Just not possible . . . even _if_ the chef happens to be a six-foot-three, oafish _brute_ who _refuses_ to chill out.

No longer able to withstand the hunger pains pinching and gnawing away at my insides any longer, especially not with croissants soon to be heading my way, I decided to play it cool. You know, maybe try a little reverse psychology on Eli and see if _that_ wouldn't excuse me from having to admit that I was now nearly _literally_ dying to eat his damned food, already.

"_Pfft_. 'Wonderful work of culinary art,' my butt!_ Anybody_ can make this, you know -- It isn't very hard. It's just a bunch of eggs scrambled, cooked, and put onto a plate. That's it," I scoffed, laying it on thick with the indifference, as I pushed the plate away from me a little bit for emphasis. "And those croissants you're about to take out of the oven will probably taste _stale_, even though you've only just finished baking them."

There. That should do it, even though it pained me so to have ever uttered something negative about the buttery and flaky goodness that is my croissants. Still, if my ploy worked, not only wouldn't I have to admit that I actually cared to try Eli's cooking, but I would soon be knee deep in yummy bread-galore the moment he'd get offended and force me to eat everything in sight.

Eli, with a heavy exhale, abruptly closed the oven, after having retrieved the long row of freshly baked croissants, and turned to face me with them still within his oven mitt covered hand. His facial expression appeared as though he either wanted to vomit, or shout in appalled disgust by my insults.

This sight, however, only made _me_ want to dance for joy to see that I had apparently succeeded.

_Here it comes_, I thought with silent glee, swallowing back the increase of saliva that had immediately begun to form within my mouth the moment I'd laid eyes upon the golden brown, fluffy treats within the man's firm grasp.

"Hmm . . . well, as you wish, then, Wilhelmina. I suppose I will simply have to allow one of the Royal Staff to partake within this scrumptious meal, instead," Eli delivered with a nonchalant air, seeming not at all upset nor having taken my bait, as he gave a brief shrug of his shoulders before proceeding to head towards the kitchen door with the croissants still in hand.

"N-No, _wait!_" I called out with a start, nearly jumping out of my chair in the process. I felt my cheeks begin to flush, as I knew I so totally looked like some desperate _addict_ or what have you, _and_ in front of my worst enemy, no less. "I-I mean . . . if you're going to be such a _sorehead_ about it, I'll just go ahead and try the freaking things -- _And_ these eggs, all right? Even though there's a strong chance that you might have _poisoned_ them, most likely. . . ."

Hey. A girl does what she has to do, in order to both save face, as well as passing out from hunger.

Eli let out a disinterested sigh, as he stopped short in front of the kitchen's dual entrance and exit, rolling his dark eyes once more.

". . . . If you insist, then," he replied evenly, moving back towards the table and myself with the warm, crescent shaped rolls, while I tried to recover my composure. "And if I _had_ poisoned the meal, as you say, then that would certainly defeat the purpose of my having come out here to the States in the _first_ place, now wouldn't it?"

We didn't say anything more to one another after that, not for a while, anyway, as I had then begun to go to town on those bad boys called croissants, in addition to my omelet. Eli, meanwhile, went back over to the stove to, what it looked like, at least, make himself a cup of tea.

And . . . even though I am deeply, _deeply_ ashamed to admit this, even to you, journal, I have to say. . . .

THE ENTIRE BREAKFAST WAS FLIPPIN' AWESOME!!

Everything was so light and buttery where it needed to be, and soft and full of taste with every bite. I've never had a French Omelet before -- Actually, an omelet, period (well, one that didn't come out completely burned or runny), but this one wasn't bad at all. It was so fluffy and sort of with a creamy, kind of zesty aftertaste, as though milk or some sort of cheese had been added, like cheddar, maybe.

_Note to self: _Look up recipe on how to make a French Omelet, to start making them for breakfast, myself.

As for the croissant posse of mine, let's just say that I can never go back to eating store-bought ones ever again.

_Damn_ it.

I can't help myself, but I actually _enjoy_ that blasted fiend's cooking!!

_Curses_. . . .

But . . . how in the hell _did_ he learn to cook like that, in the first place? I don't think he ever did answer my question when I'd asked that, before. At least I now know where Étaín gets _her_ apparent talent from. . . .

Why doesn't my _mom _cook like this?

Okay, to be fair, Mom cooks pretty well, herself, don't get me wrong. I mean, after all, I haven't been repeatedly hospitalized for food poisoning due to undercooked breakfast, lunch, and dinners over the years, right?

It's just that, by comparison, _Eli's_ cooking is more like . . . famous chef sort of cooking, while my _mom's_ is around that of . . . well, typical Mom-sort of cooking, I guess.

Curious, and also not forgetting about how freaky this entire episode still was, I decided to do some investigating . . . _without_ seeming too interested.

Because I really _wasn't_. I just wanted to prepare myself in case Eli was planning some surprise attack later on.

"So . . . what's the deal? I mean, _why_ all the furious cooking?" I began with a forced yawn, gently pushing my empty plate away with one hand, before momentarily rubbing my now _very_ full stomach with the other and feeling quite sated. A bit thirsty, mind, but definitely sated. "I mean, you don't strike me as the cooking type -- _Or_ the singing type, either, actually. So, while I wait for the hidden cameras to be pointed out, with the confession that I'm currently on an episode of '_Camera Candid_,' spill it. Humor me."

"My goodness, are you ever the dubious one, Wilhelmina," Eli remarked, turning from the stove with a fancy looking tea cup in one hand, while raising his other to pinch the bridge of his nose, evidently to alleviate the tension building within his head. "There _is_ no extra angle in all of this, as you continue to suspect. I merely wished to take a break from all of the important documents and papers I have yet to finish going over, before my conference meeting with Spain later this afternoon. And so, I'd thought that coming in here to cook a bit might relax me, as it usually will on the rare occasion I am able to find the time to do so. Or, at least, it was _meant_ to relax me, until _you'd_ come along, with your ever-chatty mouth, anyhow. . . . And as for the singing, I do not pretend to be . . . 'music to one's ears,' as it were; however, it is _also_ merely something I will do at times while within the kitchen."

I still wasn't entirely convinced, being that Eli's explanation was resembling that of a piece of swiss cheese, what with all the "plot holes," so to speak. Still, it was a lot more than I'd expected him to reveal in reply, especially since I pretty much know zero about him, courtesy of his being a pretty secretive (_and_ two-faced, yes, we've established) person.

And even though I could have (and probably _should_ have) left it at that, I surprisingly found myself a bit intrigued to learn more. . . .

". . . . All right. So . . . what song _was_ that, anyways? You said it was French, right?" I asked with as monotone a voice as I could manage, picking up the used fork from off of my plate to begin lazily swinging it a bit in between my fingers.

Eli slowly nodded, his eyes narrowing a bit, apparently with suspicion of his own, although the faint smile that had then formed upon his tanned face effortlessly masked it. He paused a moment before he responded, moving over to the medium sized, circular window that was near the refrigerator, and gazed thoughtfully out at the steadily falling snow.

"That would be correct; it _was_ French, yes. And also just a song my mother and father -- Your grandparents -- had taught to your mother and I when we were both children, growing up," he said, gently tapping at his warm cup with his index finger, and curiously tilting his head a bit to the side. "They had explained to us that they, in turn, had each learned it in church, and in school -- My mother, from a particular and quite favorite nun she had known, as it had been my understanding; and my father, from his cousin and fellow schoolmate. It was one of their favorite songs, you know. . . . I don't . . . suppose I know why I had chosen to sing _that_ particularly song, however, especially since I have not done so, nor have I ever thought about it, in several years. . . . Hmm . . . curious what effect the weather might have upon you. . . ."

I raised an eyebrow at this.

I mean, the little story about my grandparents "cutely" teaching my mom and her brother a song the two had apparently loved was, what? I suppose, tradition now, or something? Like, maybe Eli was sharing this story as a hint for me to learn it, as well, in order to teach it to _my_ children one day?

I don't know. Probably just letting my paranoia get the better of me, while grasping at straws, here.

Besides, I had never heard Mom sing it before, nor was I aware she even _knew_ or understood French to _begin_ with -- Until lately, of course. Not to mention, short of asking outright, I had no way of knowing whether or not Eli has gone ahead and taught it to _his_ kids, either.

Still.

Couldn't help but feel a bit . . . touched to learn something -- _Anything_, about the grandparents I had never gotten a chance to know. My mom hasn't exactly been a flooding current whenever it came to them (for semi-obvious reasons, now), and after having only bothered to ask her about them twice in my entire life (the first time, when I was seven-years-old, and then again, when I was ten), and both occurrences had been met with dismal, tight-lipped results, I never had again.

It was just something you get used to not knowing or talking about, you know?

_Now_, however, I sort of wish that I had. . . .

While I continued to mull it all over within my mind, I also began to remember earlier this morning, when I had first woken up and that Eli had said nearly the same thing.

Well, not really, but I mean about the weather.

The snow.

What _was_ it about it that seems to have him so transfixed each and every time he catches sight of it??

Do they not have snow in Marsily, or something? Yeesh.

It, admittedly, was kind of freaky. Especially seeing him so . . . almost human whenever he looks at it.

Suddenly, I didn't really want to stick around anymore, purely because I was growing uncomfortable with this kinda-sorta, touchy-feeling moment between the two of us, so I hurriedly got up from my chair . . . which, unfortunately for me, startled Eli in the process.

"W-What -- _Ouch!! _My _hand!!_" he cried out in abrupt pain, due to having jumped in alarm at the rushed sounds from behind him, resulting in spilling half of his hot tea all over his appendages. He whirled around to gaze at me with expectant, clearly vexed eyes, before rushing over to the sink to clean up. "What has gotten _into_ you this morning?? Have you honestly _forgotten_ the manners I have taught you, already??"

Annnnd, he is back, ladies and gentlemen. Most _certainly_ now.

I frowned deeply, cheeks reddened with amalgamated anger and embarrassment. I excitedly threw down the fork that was still within my hand back onto the plate, before turning on my heel to leave the kitchen without a word.

But alas, that was mere wishful thinking.

Before I'd even made it to the kitchen door, Eli was already finished rinsing his hands and drying them off upon a clean part of his apron, before meeting me half way. We gazed at one another in tense silence for a second or two, the both of us glowering at one another as we pretty much normally do during frequent moments such as this.

Finally, Eli was the first to speak . . . and the other shoe had at last fallen.

". . . . I was not going to reveal this to you -- Not until a bit later today, at least. However, given the current circumstances, in _addition_ to your continually horrid display, it appears to be the most appropriate time," he began, his voice becoming dangerously soft, as though trying to suppress the bubbling rage that might have been coursing throughout his insides right about then. "You, your mother and myself will all be going out to dinner this Friday evening, to the _Le Beau Expérience_. From what I understand, it is quite the expensive, prestigious restaurant . . . despite having been established within an otherwise _less_ than impressive city. . . . And, before you even say it, _no_, you may _not_ be excused from attending. It is important that we begin to slowly but surely nudge you out into the public eye in a far more positive, _productive_ manner than you have thus far . . . not to mention, that this will simultaneously serve as your first test for your princess lessons thus far, to see whether or not you have committed each of them to memory. . . ."

And with that, the insufferable king just turns back around and begins to clear up the kitchen, as though I had never shown up to begin with, or as though he hadn't just dropped this super fat _bomb_ on me.

Yep. He is _definitely_ back to normal.

_Told_ you it was too good to be true.

I couldn't believe it. A _mandatory_ dinner date with the greatest foe I have ever known??

_Ugh_. I can't refer to it as a "_date_." That's just too _gross_ to place such a generally pleasant word alongside a _vile_ human being as my uncle.

I think I'll just call it an "outing," instead. Or, better yet, a _prison sentence_, since that's what it already _feels_ like.

I totally _knew_ there was a catch to his being seemingly nice and making me breakfast . . . er, brunch -- _Whatever!_

Seriously, think about it: He was probably waiting until both my mouth _and_ belly were full enough, so that I wouldn't be able to effectively object _nor_ run away fast enough once he'd delivered the news to me.

Well played . . . _jerk_.

Still. Again, I will state that, me, going out in public, no less, with the _Devil's Spawn_ is not exactly _my_ idea of a fun filled Friday night.

_And_ it's part of my stupid princess lesson test, too?? I am _so_ not prepared for it, what with being completely busy trying to save my GPA, save the _world_ -- And, oh, yeah. My ever-loving _mind!_

I don't even know what I'm going to be tested on, either, unless it's covering how _not_ to look like a total _spaz,_ while the rest of the restaurant's occupants undoubtedly _gawk_ at me the entire-freaking-evening.

If it is, Eli might as well fail me _now_.

But, seriously, though. What _would_ be the big deal if I _do_ end up totally bombing this so called "test," anyway?? Is he going to give me an _F_ in "princesshood," or whatever you wanna call it? Strip my royal title?

Like _either_ scenario would be such a terrible fate, since it's all I've ever wanted to _begin_ with.

Still . . . knowing him, as I do (or, at least the inner machinations of his mind when it refers to his "favorite" niece, anyway), if I _don't_ do well enough for his liking, he might give me _double_ the princess lessons, or something.

_Nooo_, flippin' way!!

I think I'd rather kiss Blunk's smelly, little Passling _feet_, than have to endure a _daily_ lesson, in contrast!!

Sigh . . . damn this. Now, I have to worry about finishing the rest of my homework, start my projects, as _well_ as actually study the dictation from the lessons I've had so far.

But, hey. At least Mom will be there, too (most likely much to her _own_ chagrin, as well), and it's going to be at a restaurant I've never stepped foot in before, of course, it being so "richy" and all.

Something tells me I'm going to _need_ the comfort food. . . .

**-- End of Chapter Forty-Two**

* * *

**(A.N. Originally, I was going to continue from there, and put the next scene, featuring Will's mom, but since this one was pushing ten pages, I thought it better I save it for the next chapter . . . even though I already have the next several chapters lined up, and the following chapter after this wasn't about that. LoL This was just a better place to end, given everything else, rather than barrel into something semi-unrelated. No biggie. Um . . . what else. Just thought I'd poke a little fun at my sister, who absolutely loves croissants, herself, and eats them in the same way Will had in this chapter. LoL I don't really care for them, myself, unless they're homemade. Store bought . . . bleh. LoL**

**Oh, yeah. Nope. Don't own the song Eli was singing, "_Dominique_," which had been composed and sung, back in 1963, by Belgian nun of the Dominican Order, Sister Luc-Gabrielle, born Jeanine Decker. I've just always really liked this song, having grown up listening to it with my dad singing and playing it on his guitar -- And still does. HeHe So just thought I'd insert it, for semi-no reason other than that. Very sad, though, that Ms. Decker committed suicide in 1985 and is no longer with us. . . .) **


	44. Chapter Forty Three

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Bleh. Only five reviews thus far for the latest chapter?? Out of the fifty-four peeps who've faved this story, and the sixty who've story alerted it (which I always have/will thank you all for, of course)?? Better be cuz you're all in school that you haven't left more, damn it! LoL I kid, I kid. I'm sure that's why. In any event, it'll still be here for you to read and review whenever you're ready. HeHe_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in October 2008.

* * *

**Chapter Forty Three**

**Thursday, November 9th, 2:11 pm,**

"**My Bedroom" Inside of the Presidential Suite of the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel**

I know that I can be a bit . . . okay, _a lot_ like an overdramatic, _super_ worrisome, borderline clinically paranoid _loony_ tunes.

I do.

And I also know that I should _really_ recall, more often, my earlier resolve to, _basically_, lighten up, in addition to actively take some stress management classes (that I see the local community college is offering, that I can put towards both my graduating high school and college credits for the near future), rather than only keep on _writing_ and _joking_ how I should.

_Seriously_. I _know_ all this.

But no one _else_ is a member of the same, excuse this next pun, _royally_ screwed up family as _I_ am!

What's the problem _now_, and in less than a couple of hours, you ask?

My dearest _mommy_, of course.

That woman is seriously the prime example of what an enigma is, I kid you not. Because every time I think that she's done with all of her secrets, and I can fully trust and ally myself completely with her once more, I find out something _new_ to add to her growing list of misdemeanors. . . .

See, after my incident with _irksome_ Eli, I needed desperately to cool off. And there was _no_ way that I could focus on _one_ piece of my homework, let alone trap myself within my room to complete _every_ last bit of it as originally planned.

And normally, I know it's a bad habit, but whenever I'm super upset, I might eat a little ice cream -- You know, as my comfort. But the thought of food, especially some that had been made by the very person who had pissed me off so much (no matter _how_ good it had all been), was making me feel worse.

No. What I needed right then was _companionship_ as _my_ form of consoling.

But I really didn't want to involve the girls in it, since it was "royal related," and I'm still trying to keep discussion of that topic to a minimum . . . despite it being a swiftly losing battle, courtesy of Irma's gossiping nature, and Hay Lin's apparent and newfound, extreme fascination with royalty.

Plus, I could just hear _Cornelia's_ response after I would have finished telling the four of them what had happened:

"_Pfft. God! Just get a backbone, get off your high horse, and shut the (expletive deleted) up!!"_

Um. Right.

No, thanks to _that_ option.

_One_ nuisance at a time, per _day_, please.

So, that only left my mom as someone who could cheer me up.

Or, at least _try_ to, anyway.

I mean, this concerned her, as well, after all. Maybe she, too, was just as upset to learn about this stupid dinner shindig tomorrow night (if at all, knowing Eli and his frequent desire to spring things onto his victims at the last minute) as _I_ was.

And when she woke up to think about it once more, she'd _need_ the mutual support.

I left the kitchen and went further down the hall towards where I assumed Mom still was, sound asleep inside of her bedroom.

I hated to have to wake her up like this, especially over her idiot brother.

I mean, after all, she's had a pretty rough last couple of days, herself, because of all of this princess crap. All of that crying she'd been doing lately, and guilt she's been feeling for not telling me of my true lineage sooner, would drain _anyone_ of their energy. So I was happy to know that she allowing herself to sleep in, since she very rarely gets enough opportunities to do so on a regular basis.

Once I got to the sealed double doors that looked nearly identical to my own, I gently clasped one of the golden door handles and slowly turned it. The room was pretty dark, once I opened the door and discreetly poked my head inside to have a look, save a small, lone ray of morning light peeking through the closed, golden velvet curtains.

But that was to expected, anyway, given the bedroom's occupant was continually fast asleep . . . or so I thought.

When my eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting within the room, I was able to make out the faint silhouette of my mother's luxurious, queen sized bed propped up against the wall in the near distance . . . and could see that she was not in it.

"Huh? Hmm. . . ." I murmured underneath my breath once I saw this and entered the bedroom, went past Mom's empty, already made up bed and towards the master bathroom area to see if maybe she might have been lurking about in there, instead.

But, no go.

Now, I was confused, thinking that maybe she really _had_ gone off to work, after all. It was crazy and foolish, given the fierce weather carrying on outside, but it _was_ possible (and certainly understandable, since it's an otherwise _nuthouse_ around here).

So, left without any other sort of conclusion, and disappointed that I was stuck within the suite all alone, more or less, I made my way back towards the double doors.

This was just what I needed. _Now_ what was I supposed to do to help me unwind??

I couldn't leave the hotel because of the damned storm, and I wasn't ready to call up any of the girls to just start talking about everything and nothing all at once as we all usually do, because they'd be able to sense my upset.

I was stuck.

But then, that's when I remembered this place has both an indoor and outdoor swimming pool and spa!

I mean, I wasn't about to go and get felt up and massaged by a complete stranger, even though I've always heard that it's worth the try, at least once in your life, in order to help relieve some stress. (The massage treatment, I mean, not being felt up. _Pervert_.)

But a quick dip within the indoor pool to swim a couple of laps was just the thing I needed. Well, I'd obviously have to wait a little while to do so, since I'd just finished eating. But I could at least dip my feet and submerge my body for a bit until I could.

Besides, I haven't been able to resume my practicing, for whenever Coach Gracie manages to get our last swim meet re-scheduled, thanks to Eli's unwanted, _überembarrassing_ interruption.

_Speaking_ of, I have to remember to send Gracie an e-mail to ask her what's the status on all of that, since I haven't been able to swing by the Rec Center to see her in person, nor bumped into any of my fellow teammates since then.

But, anyway, excited by the idea, I hurried out of my mom's bedroom, closed the door behind me and raced back to my own room to see if I couldn't find the swimsuit, goggles and swim cap that I'd worn at the disastrous meet.

Thankfully, I was able to make it back to the bedroom and change in peace, without having the misfortune of bumping into Eli and having to deal with him any further. The _last_ thing I needed was for him to ask me where I was off to in such a hurry, and how it was "very unladylike to gallivant around," or something.

Either that, or that I didn't need to leave the entire suite in order to go for a "quick dip," since the Presidential Suite _does_ have its own private swimming pool _and_ jacuzzi, I do remember.

However, not for all of the tea in _England_ would I _ever_ use that freaking pool while _that_ man was around.

And so, after successfully finding and changing into my swim suit, I grabbed a towel from out of the bathroom, put on my slippers and robe back on, and crept out of the room as swiftly as I could. With a deep breath, I quietly unlocked the suite's entrance doors and, _somehow_, managed to escape without an unwanted appearance from Eli.

Of course, feeling good about that was short lived, because, as I should have already known, both Nova and Ernest were standing, posted right outside of the doorway's entrance.

In truth, this wasn't _totally_ a shocker, mainly because that's where they usually are every morning whenever I leave for school, and where they remain until they've been assured, via earpieces, by fellow bodyguards (or Eli, I guess), that I am safe, secure and settled into my bedroom or elsewhere within the suite.

I was just a bit surprised to see them there _this_ morning, however, not because it was a snow day, but because of what had happened to them _yesterday_. I mean, professionally trained protector or no, there is no inner mantra, mental focusing or _what_ have you that could possibly help avoid the undoubtedly _horrible_ indigestion those two must have gone through for most, if not _all_ of last night.

That was _a lot _of hot dogs the both of them seemed to have eaten, thanks to Irma's "mind ploy," and they _did_ look pretty green in the face -- Not to mention, _miserable,_ when I'd left them after we'd arrived back here at the hotel.

I was pretty sure, before going to sleep last night, that either Ernest, or Nova (if not both) would have been too busy _puking_ their guts out to be able to immediately go back to work again and continue guarding me the following morning.

And honestly, I felt a bit more sympathetic than relieved by that presumption, since it was more or less _my_ fault. Especially since the pair would forever be completely _dumbfounded_ as to what it was they could have mutually ingested to make them so ill . . . alongside wonder where the missing time had gone, once or _if_, rather, either ever bothered to take a minute or two to think back upon the day's events within its entirety.

Sorry, guys, but you're S.O.L. on _that_ notion, at least, because I can't and _won't_ ever tell a soul about that.

_Anyhow_, I let out a small gasp in alarm, again, only because I hadn't expected to see the dynamic duo being able to _stand_ by any other force other than _God's_, maybe, let alone _be_ there, ready and waiting for me to emerge from the premises.

But they were, the both of them standing as stoically and rigid as always, hands clasped calmly as well as confidently in front of themselves, while donning the usual black suits, earpieces and sunglasses.

_Huh. I guess their stomachs must be lined with some sort of iron-tight casing, __after__ all_, I couldn't help but think to myself in amusement, quietly closing the door behind me. Clearing my throat, I gave an acknowledgeable nod to them both before speaking.

"Uh . . . good morning? I mean, I _guess?_ Sort of surprised to see the two of you here today," I said, slightly tripping over my words with faint awkwardness. I had been referring to the fact that it was a snow day, again, as I'd stated moments ago, more so for the whole stomach sickness, of course.

However, as I said this, I was met with two pairs of _very_ leery looking eyes.

Well, actually, I'm purely speculating, since, again, it's hard to see really _anything_ Nova or Ernest might be exuding from behind their darkened shades (about which, I wish I could, if it's allowed, anyway, use my "royal power" or whatever and make a decree that they no longer wear the blasted things 'round the clock while within my company, because it _really_ freaks me right the frick _out_).

Still, thanks to their having simultaneously tilted their heads down a bit (in order to gaze at me a bit more properly, I suppose), and each raised an eyebrow in curiosity, I was able to see the resounding suspicion plastered upon their faces . . . in addition to lingering queasiness.

A part of me really wanted to burst into fits of giggles at the sight, even though I did still feel guilty for everything.

But, hey. What can you do, you know?

And,_ see?_ For once, those two actually managed to make me feel semi-cheered up, versus the _suffocating_ emotions I usually feel whenever around them.

". . . . _Surprised_, Princess? Why is _that?_" Nova queried with a slight, but noticeable narrowing of her gray colored eyes, as she peered over her eye wear to gaze down at me.

"_Oh!_ U-Um . . . _you_ know! Because, you _know! _No school, lots of _snow_, and I'm stuck _here_, safe and sound. No need, really, to guard me, like you guys always do," I quickly covered with a faint smile, regaining my composure so that the two hopefully would be none the wiser.

_Ernest_, at least, seemed to have bought it (although, honestly, how can you really tell with that ever silent mystification?), because he just gave a slight shrug of his shoulders before extending an arm out in front of him, apparently indicating that I move before either he nor Nova did the same.

I was only _too_ happy to oblige, turning my back to them as swiftly as possible, so that I would no longer have to see the faint distrust lingering upon Nova's creamed visage.

_Great_.

Like having those two around, getting them _to_ "trust" me, while simultaneously trying to _ditch_ them whenever necessary wasn't hard enough to _begin_ with.

But now that they nearly got _poisoned_ by _my_ direction, something tells me that I'm going to have to be on my toes _a lot_ more, whether they're ever sure I had something to do with it, or not.

So, after enduring a pretty awkward and silent trip in the elevator, down to the basement area where the public indoor pool is located, I practically rushed out of the metal contraption and wanted to immediately dive into the awaiting water.

Impending cramps due to a full stomach, be damned.

But, _as_ always, Ernest placed himself directly before me, while Nova stayed _behind_ me, doing their usual sandwich tactic, in order to shield me from harm, whenever first entering various, different places.

_Very_ annoying.

But I could live with it for now, if it meant that I could be left alone (well, figuratively, at least) to swim until I was too tired to breathe, and all of my bothersome thoughts faded away. . . .

And boy, _howdy_, is that swimming pool awesome and luxurious. I haven't bothered to check out the one up in the Presidential Suite quite yet, but this one's pretty impressive, I gotta say.

The one at the Rec Center is all . . . "business-like," I guess you can call it, since while it _is_ also used for leisure, it's still mainly used for all pf the various swim teams, like mine, within the area.

_This_ place, however, is überglam, _posh_, and . . . "sparkly."

Even has a neat, stunning, and man-made waterfall that overlooks the entire span of the pool, while simultaneously filtering more water into it, with a jacuzzi on the other side of it nearby.

You should also see the three, _giant_ chandeliers that hang over the freaking thing, as well.

I'm _tellin_' ya. The rich _certainly_ know how to live, and the _hotel staff _and such certainly know how to _pamper_ them, to the point of over the _top_.

Thankfully, however, apparently a lot of the "fellow wealthy people" and guests had opted out of taking a dip this morning, because the swimming pool was empty.

In fact, except for a couple of elderly people lounging by it in pool chairs and such, while some lone, dark haired chick sat inside of the jacuzzi with her back towards the entrance, it really was just me there.

Well, me, alongside Ernest and Nova, but you get me.

_This is working out __a lot __better than I'd originally thought_, I mused to myself with a soft, relieved smile, as I approached the crystalline, semi-still water, with my bodyguards trailing behind after Ernest had let me safely pass. _At least I won't have to worry about a bunch of people coming up to me for __autographs__, or something, and since those old folks over there are pretty much knocked out, I'm set. _

All that was left was that woman soaking exclusively within the jacuzzi, but for some reason, I highly doubted that I'd be pestered by _her_ once she finally got out, headed this way, and perhaps recognized me.

Funny, too, because, _also_ for some reason, she seemed a bit familiar to me, even though I couldn't see her face from where I was standing. . . .

That's when I suddenly felt compelled to forgo my little swim for a moment or two, in order to do a little _snooping_, instead.

Don't ask me _why_. The urge just came over me, I suppose.

So, after asking Nova and Ernest to wait where they were, and that I was going to go into the jacuzzi for a little bit, myself, I quietly crept over towards the other side of the slightly obscuring waterfall, and towards where the woman continued to sit.

Even before I got extra close enough, I could kind of see that she seemed busy with something, like either reading and turning the pages vigorously, or writing down something just as swift. I stopped walking for a moment, keeping a respectable distance, while beginning to wonder what it was that had her so enthralled, that she kept exhaling in slight frustration, when she suddenly threw down what indeed had been a writing pad and pen to the side of the jacuzzi.

_Next_ I know, she's getting up abruptly, leaving her belongings behind, as she and some other woman I hadn't noticed until then, a blonde dressed in all black (who apparently had been seated within a chair I wasn't able to see, prior to, from where I remained, standing), hurriedly walked towards a large, wooden door in the near distance marked "Saunas," within fancy, golden letters.

Obviously, I didn't want to be caught eavesdropping, so I nearly lost my balance and fell into the pool, as I swiftly ducked behind the stupid fake palm trees and such that surrounded the waterfall. I know I looked like a complete buffoon to both Ernest and Nova, who were undoubtedly watching from where I'd left them, I'm sure, but when do I _not?_

It was either that, or be _sued_ by this poor woman, who might have thought I was some young, budding _pervert_, or something.

_Anyway_, so while I'm thinking all this to myself, I suddenly can hear the other chick, the fair haired one, calling out in a taken aback air to the mystery woman, "Your Highness, Princess Almira! Please wait for me, until I have gone in ahead to make sure it is safe!"

I instantly was like: _No, __way__. Was that . . . __Tegan__, Mom's bodyguard chick? Then __that__ means that. . . ._

And, sure enough, I can then hear my _mom's_ voice, which sounded _very_ tired, cracked, and newly moist as though she'd been crying while inside of the jacuzzi, go, "Tegan, _please_. I appreciate the concern, although it primarily comes with your job description; however I can look after myself, as I tell you most everyday you and I are together. Besides . . . I can _guarantee_ you that there isn't going to be anything, or _anyone_ in there that which might hurt me and make me feel any worse than I do _already_. . . ."

Then I heard, presumably the door to the sauna open for a moment, before slowly closing after the two women once they had then entered.

I was right.

It _was_ my mom.

Mystery solved, at least, as to her whereabouts, and why I felt so curiously drawn to her even before realizing who she had been.

Sure, I immediately felt happy knowing that she was just as safe and sound inside of the hotel walls as I was, and still there with me, versus braving the storm going on outside. But, _now_ I also naturally felt instantly saddened and worried for her.

Why was she so upset? Or, rather, what was she upset about, _now_, since she's always so down lately, anyhow?

Moreover, why hadn't I revealed myself to her before she went inside of the sauna, with Tegan there to guard her (and undoubtedly sweat more than anyone _else_ who might have been inside with them, seeing as she _was_ clad within her usual black suit)?

I suppose it was maybe because I might have wanted to give her her space and continued privacy, such as it was, at least . . . that, and I don't honestly know what I could have said or done to make her feel better about whatever was currently bothering her.

In any event, after knowing it was now safe to move from my spot, I swiftly did so and stared after the closed wooden door, while walking over to the unoccupied, bubbling jacuzzi. Even though I generally respect my mom and things concerning her, I couldn't help but grow curious as to what she'd been writing about before giving up on it in such a huff.

Besides, I quickly gave myself the excuse that I was mainly doing her a favor by minding over it, in case some complete stranger might stroll up later on and take a gander at her personal thoughts.

Right?

Works for _me_.

So, without another thought, I practically pounced upon the abandoned manila colored notepad, disregarding, for the time being, at least, the numerous crumpled up pieces of paper of the same color surrounding it and myself.

I immediately let out a startled gasp as my eyes met with the page and read what my mom had begun to write upon it:

_My Dearest Dean,_

_Words cannot express the continued sorrow that I feel for what had happened. . . ._

I instantly felt very confused.

I didn't get it. I mean, I'm going to assume, here, that Mom's writing a letter to Dean Collins, as in her ex-boyfriend, right?

But, _why??_ And why _apologize_, when _he_ was the _dirtbag_ who had gone and dumped her without much regret, most likely, before moving to Syracuse??

It didn't add up.

And _because_ it didn't, I decided to take a peek at all of the other rejected pieces of paper of the same letter, no doubt.

But all of _them_ had been pretty much the same, as well:

_Darling Dean,_

_Please know that, as each day goes by, I regret what had transpired between us. . . ._

_Dear Dean,_

_I am so, unbelievably sorry for what I had done. . . ._

That last one _really_ had me baffled, not to mention very _angry_.

I mean, the guy leaves my generally kick ass mother, tearing her heart out in the process and making her become _so_ emotionally _disheveled_ on a daily basis in the process, and _somehow_ has managed to make _her_ feel _guilty_ for it!

Like _she_ might have needed to make herself become better or more _worthy_ of him, so he would have stayed, instead of the other way around.

_Talk_ about being a major _asshole_.

I'm even _more_ glad that he's gone, honestly, and I hope he _never_ comes back.

I was too upset and riled up by what I had read, that I ended up not swimming anymore, at all, and just went straight back up to the Presidential Suite.

But . . . honestly? Now that I'm back here, taking the time to write this and reflecting upon it some more, I've just gotten a _new_ thought. . . .

Like, what if . . . the reason my mom was crying again down at the pool area and writing apologetic letters to Dean, _wasn't_ because she felt like she had to better herself for him, per say . . . but because she feels continually guilty for having _cheated_ on him??

_Seriously!_

_Think_ about it!

It all _totally_ makes sense! The abrupt way he'd suddenly left her, _and_ the state, no less; the ongoing depression she's been having; and now these _letters_, asking -- No, _begging_ for forgiveness??

And _then_ that whole "nothing's ever going to take my pain away" thing she'd said to Tegan before entering the sauna.

It _definitely_ adds up a lot more, now.

And now, I feel as though my feelings have shifted, and I feel greatly angry, disgusted and betrayed by my mother, _myself_, all over again, and super _sorry_ for _Dean_, wherever he may currently be while in Syracuse right now.

I mean, I, of all people, know _exactly_ what it feels like to have your heart ripped out and shattered by the one you love. But it's about a _billion_ times worse for _him_, since Mom was pretty much well on her way to becoming the love of Dean's life, if not _already_ and such.

And _then,_ she had to go throw it all away by having some sorted _affair_ with another man, who was probably some _sleazoid,_ anyway, and probably does this sort of thing all the time with _other_ women.

How _very_ ironic that what Matt and I had initially assumed Mom to be doing, when I went to go meet her here at the Plaza on the first day I'd met Eli, is actually really what had happened, but _well_ before then, clearly. . . .

Okay, okay.

_Sorry_.

I don't mean to make my own mother sound like some devilish, desperate _degenerate_ (Hey, neat -- Triple "D's" right there) or whatever, because obviously, she _isn't_ . . . even _with_ this now hanging over her head.

But, still.

I, in no way approve of, _nor_ condone cheating of _any_ kind (well, unless it's on your diet, or something, and you just _really_ have a super huge chocolate craving that you can no longer ignore, maybe), _especially_ the kind pertaining to the _heart_. . . .

Man.

Poor Dean. Here I was, all this time, _hating_ on him and wishing the absolute worst upon him for breaking my mother's heart, when all along it had been the other way around.

Now I _really_ can't blame him for wanting to pack everything up and move as far away from her as possible. . . .

_Geez_.

Now I feel _just_ as wound up as before. It never _ends_, I tell you.

Not when, I will say again, you're a part of _such_ an apparently disastrous, lying and _manipulative_ family as _I_ am. . . .

**-- End of Chapter Forty Three**

* * *

**(A.N. Aww, poor Dean... So now, we all know the truth of why he left both Susan and Heatherfield, altogether. Who would've thought that she was capable of doing such a thing? And why?? I don't know. LoL Guess she wasn't feeling him or something... and so went and "felt" someone else... Cough...cough...LoL I know, I'm mean. Ah, well. LoL **

**Oh, and I know it didn't REALLY really, anyway, make sense for Susan to have gone from straight out of the jacuzzi, then into the sauna, still all wet and in her bathing suit. For the most part, anyhow, most people usually wear nothing at all but towels wrapped securely around themselves. I know that's what I, at least, usually do...however embarrassing and uncomfortable at times it can be, what with other people just as "nekkid" sitting near/around you...Bleh. LoL Anyhow, I got lazy and didn't care, since it isn't "impossible" to do it that way, either, obviously, and let her go in as she had. Just sucked to be Tegan, is all. LoL**

**So, yeah! Chapter forty-three, everybody! Give it a hand! :Claps: Woooo! LoL Now, leave reviews and savor it, because I'm going to shift back to my other stories and play catch up with them before updating this again. Aww, no tears. It won't be as long the wait like before. HeHe)**


	45. Chapter Forty Four

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Woo! I'm back again, my lovelies! Rejoice, and enjoy this fourteen pager! Not as big as some of my other monster chapters in this ficcie, but it's about average size for me, as well. So yeah. Rejoice, I say!! Because it's a juicy one! LoL_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in December 2008.

* * *

**Chapter Forty Four**

**Thursday, November 9th, 3:36 pm,**

"**My Bedroom" Inside of the Presidential Suite of the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel**

I AM GOING SO FREAKING STIRCRAZY, HERE!!!!

I can't take being trapped within this room, this _hotel_ for much longer! It's nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, and while it _has_ dwindled down to a couple of flurries here and there, it is _still_ snowing!!

And thus, it is a big, whopping _"No!"_ to being able to drive (well, _being_ driven, since everything has to involve limousines in terms of transportation, now) or even _walk_ about, and maybe go to hang out with my friends -- _Anything_, to get away from my stupid, crazy "charmed" life, if only for a little while!

But considering the very, _very_ draining conversation I just had online, I don't really think I'd be good company for the girls, _anyhow_. . . .

I'm tellin' ya. My heart keeps getting blow, after blow, after _blow_, it's truly a miracle that I'm still alive . . . _barely_.

I mean, seriously.

_Is_ this really healthy, mentally _or_ physically? I repeat myself like, _all_ the time, in this journal, I know for sure, and repeat myself by _saying_ that I repeat myself.

But I really want to know. Exactly how much _can_ the human body or psyche endure, in terms of emotional abuse, before it cracks and shuts down??

Methinks I would much rather take a beating from Metamoor's otherworldly creatures on any day of the week, in contrast. Well, not like I get _trounced_ by them a lot, of course, because I really don't.

I rule.

But, I'm just saying that, in _my_ experience, _physical_ wounds heal _a lot_ faster than _emotional_ afflictions, and so I can, have, and would gladly handle those, instead. Because this whole being in love kick, and trying to either block it out or convince myself that I'm effectively moving on isn't really working for me, here.

Sure, Matt, and now Hay Lin both know the truth, and that's fine and all if ever I want to vent about being stuck coveting Cornelia's marvelous relationship with her (and sadly, _my_) beloved Caleb. But what good is that, really, in the long run, when neither they _nor_ I can do anything about how I _feel?? _

What I _continue_ to feel, and continue to _want??_

What _can_ be done, though, honestly? I'm still trapped with the constant rejection and pain of wanting him and wanting to be _with_ him _sooo_ badly that I can't breathe, and _hating_ him at the same time, because he couldn't find it within his stupid heart to want me in the same way.

Maybe I should just have him _killed_. . . .

_Wow!_ Okay, then . . . now I _know_ I've definitely and officially arrived and walked into the deep end there, if while within the midst of my misery and turmoil, I would actually fantasize about resorting to violence of the _permanent_ fortitude against the guy. . . .

I think I _might_ actually take up the suggestion Matt had given me in e-mail just a little while ago (which I will probably write about in a new entry, because I can only handle so much at one time) to look into getting a therapist for real, instead of always being sarcastic about it all the time whenever around him, or within past journal entries. . . .

I _will_ admit, I was a bit offended and put off by this, since the majority of the time, most people immediately think, _"Craaaazzzzy!"_ whenever they find out that someone is going to a psychiatrist and such for whatever issues or qualms they might possess.

And since _I'm_ still in high school, coupled with the now grotesquely blatant fact that I am unavoidably famous??

I may as well commit myself to crazy house right now, and save everyone else both their judgment and time.

Still . . . as much as writing out my every last emotion within this journal _has_ helped some, I _don't_ really think having someone of the adult, professional nature, who may have "been there, done that" in their youth could hurt so much. . . .

The only thing, though, is finding the perfect person for me, without many people finding out in the process . . . not to mention how to prevent both my mother and Eli from finding out, themselves.

Too bad I don't know anyone who they, themselves, might know someone who's in that particular line of business. . . .

Hmm . . . suddenly this idea seems _a lot _harder than initially perceived.

_Geez! _I can't even get professional help without having problems and drama about it!!

Sigh. . . .

Well, for now, anyway, lemme get back to my primary vexation and heartache.

So, I'm still fuming a bit from the discovery of my mom's _second_, major betrayal in such a short amount of time, and all I want to do is run away, _far_ from the hotel, the city _and_ state -- _Hell_, even the entire _planet_.

But, obviously, I could do nothing of the sort.

So, I decided to go online, mainly to aimlessly cruise around many websites to help distract me, and then to also e-mail Coach Gracie about when and if our swim meet is going to be rescheduled as promised, since one, I haven't been able to go down to the Recreational Center to see her to ask in person, and two, with all this wintry weather fast approaching, it may soon become too late to even bother anymore.

And after having worked so hard this season? That's definitely not an option, royalty, bad weather or not.

But, then after I'd sent the e-mail to Gracie, I sort of got into "e-mail mode," and decided to readily reply to the various e-mails I'd gotten from friends and such. Over the last day or so. And so, I ended up e-mailing one of the girls, specifically Taranee, even though I knew that she and then later, the rest of the girls would ask questions and want to know precisely why I was so upset.

And I'm not exactly ready to let the outside world know that my mother is a cheating prevaricator. . . .

I did try to get in touch with Matt first, though, since yes, he too, is pretty invasive and opinionated, but in a more tolerable, less impacting way in contrast . . . but, of course, his cellphone had gone straight to voice mail when I'd called him, and he wasn't online, himself.

So, I had to settle with sending a quick e-mail, that he did reply to, I see, and will get to in my next entry, as I said.

But, _anyway_, once I signed into my e-mail account, I saw that I already had a few e-mails from the girls, specifically both Irma and Hay Lin, asking me to go into a chat room that Hay Lin had apparently created.

And even though it meant that I would have to interface with _Cornelia_ again (well, sort of, since it was the Internet and not actually in person), and so soon after last night's mysterious chaos, I nonetheless clicked on the provided link within Hay Lin's e-mail and entered the private chat room.

What happened next, within the following half an hour or so, was _definitely_ an emotional roller coaster ride . . . one I shall save time by pasting its entire unraveling throughout the chat room conversation into here, since I went and printed it out to remember for always, like the idiotic, glutton for punishment that I truly am.

Oh, yeah. And the usual "clever" after commentary provided by me in between, in parentheses:

"You are in W.I.T.C.H.y Women"

**TempestEuphoria:** HEY! WILL'S HERE, EVERYONE!

**Divalicious:** what "everyone," hay lin? It's just u and me in here, remember??

**HeartsDesire:** Hey, guys. I take it, then, that obviously Cornelia and Taranee won't be joining us?

_(Which I, of course, immediately felt relieved about)_

**Divalicious:** correctomundo, your royal babeness! little miss sour puss bravely – or STUPIDLY, in my personal opinion, ventured out into this blasted, although simultaneously awesome snow storm, since it got us out of school for the day...or millennium, at this rate, since there's so much of it out there now.... ne way!she went to her ice skating practice, regardless. not like anyone will be there, i'm sure. but according to hay, here, when she talked to her earlier, she said that corny "really needed to go get (her) mind off of things and unwind, and (her) skating does precisely that every time." that, and she also felt she'd go insane if she was forced to stay indoors, trapped with her "bratty sister" for another minute... whatever, u know?

**TempestEuphoria:** LOL YEAH, I KNOW THE FEELING.

_(Yeah, what Hay Lin said. I'm super envious of Cornelia for having been able to bust out of the clink, so to speak, and be free for a couple of hours. See what I'm saying? The girl gets everything, I swear. . . .)_

**Divalicious:** lol how can u, lin? ur an only child, remember? unless there's something u wanna share with the rest of the class....

**TempestEuphoria:** HEHE OH, STOP, IRMA! I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT! I JUST MEANT THAT I WISH **I** COULD GO OUT SOMEWHERE – ANYWHERE, BUT MY FOLKS HAVE ME ON LOCKDOWN. THEY'RE TOO AFRAID I MIGHT GET LOST OUT THERE, OR SOMETHING, I DON'T KNOW. THAT, AND I'M FORCED TO BE THE DILIGENT STUDENT BY ACTUALLY GETTING A HEADSTART ON MY TEXTBOOK READING FOR EACH OF MY CLASSES, THEY SAID. BUT OBVIOUSLY, INSTEAD OF DOING SO OR, AT THE VERY LEAST WORKING ON SOME OF MY ART PROJECTS, I'VE BEEN BUSY ONLINE THIS WHOLE TIME, LOOKING THROUGH MISCELLANEOUS WEBSITES OR TALKING TO IRMA, AND NOW TO YOU, WILL.

**HeartsDesire:** Yeah, same here...that I've been experiencing "Cabin Fever," that is.

_(Massive understatement. . . .)_

**Divalicious:** lol mmhm, i'll bet - even though u ARE in that flashy, ritzy place - what with tweedledee and tweedledum lurking around every corner. how ARE they, btw? in tip top shape again, or still lookin' as though they might spew gelatinous prunes at ne given moment?

**TempestEuphoria:** EWW, IRMA! THAT'S DISGUSTING!!

_(Yeah. Seriously.)_

**Divalicious:** well, what?? i calls 'em likes i sees 'em, ok?? u were there, last nite! those two looked like their HEADS were going to explode!

**TempestEuphoria: **YEAH, THANKS TO YOU AND YOUR OVERLY ENTHUSIASTIC MOJO!!

**Divalicious: **ok, gross. now u've gone from sounding like my typically bubbly best friend, to the gloom and doom that's been cornelia for the last...well, forever, really. nice, hay lin, thanx.

**TempestEuphoria:** HEY, ALL I WAS TRYING TO SAY WAS

**HeartsDesire:** Um, guys? Do you two even _need_ me in here? Because it seems like you two have everything under control....

_(Not that I was really feeling left out, or wanted to continue to be the center of attention as I have been for they and the rest of the world for a while now, but it would have been nice to be able to get a word in edgewise . . . you know, to help take my mind off of my own personal woes and concerns.)_

**TempestEuphoria: **OH, SHOOT! WE'RE SO SORRY, PRINCESS WILL!! IT'S JUST BEEN THE TWO OF US FOR ABOUT AN HOUR OR SO NOW. SO I GUESS WE SORT OF ALREADY FORGOT IT'S NOW THREE OF US.

**Divalicious:** pfft. speak for ur self, chickie. u just like to argue with me, even though u know u ALWAYS lose.

**TempestEuphoria:** WHAT! I

**HeartsDesire:** _Anyway!_ Where's _Taranee_, then, if you said that Cornelia's out at the ice skating rink right now? Oh, and yes, Irma, Ernest and Nova seem a little bit better, thanks...well, I mean, their faces, as far as I can make out from underneath their sunglasses and everything, _do_ still look a bit pale. But, at least they're moving a lot more fluidly than last night, so _that's_ something.

_(Yeah, and that "something" means a simultaneous guarantee that they won't die from sickness and I won't go to jail for it, even though no one can honestly prove that I'd played a slight hand within their affliction. And, it also means that I still have to deal with them tailing me everywhere just like always as punishment, which, in turn, makes me quite ill, myself. . . .)_

**Divalicious:** lol sweetness.

**TempestEuphoria:** LOL POOR GUYS.... WE SHOULD MAKE THEM A GET WELL CARD OR SOMETHING!

**Divalicious:** oh right. and what will we have it read? perhaps: "so sorry our magical powers nearly gave u two food poisoning, so here's this card AND more hot dogs, on the house"?? eeeyea, i'm thinkin' not.

**TempestEuphoria:** OH, YEAH...NEVER MIND!

_(Too bad, too, because that'd actually be a pretty funny sight to see, if we could and did send Nova and Ernest such a card. It'd make me laugh, anyway.)_

**HeartsDesire:** LoL Wow...okay, so...'Ranee? Her whereabouts, please??

**TempestEuphoria: **OH, RIGHT! ACTUALLY, WE DON'T KNOW WHERE SHE IS....

**HeartsDesire:** _What????_

_(Talk about wanting to give someone a fast heart attack, telling them that their best friend is apparently missing, right??)_

**Divalicious: **sigh. what hay hay means is, we'd sent T the invite to chat like we did for both u and cornelia, right? and then i gave her buzz on her cellphone, mainly because i needed her to read back some of her old math notes, since i knew she's long since been over with calculus but still keeps all her notes, regardless. obviously, yes, i wanted them so i wouldn't have to bother toiling away at my homework as much, b4 u girlies ask or criticize. but it all "worked out" ne way, becuz it went straight to voice mail.

**TempestEuphoria:** YEAH, SO THEN WE CALLED HER HOUSE, BUT THERE WAS NO ANSWER THERE, EITHER.

**HeartsDesire:** Wait, what? No answer at her house _or_ her personal phone...and you two are just _sitting_ here, chatting away like it's _nothing???_

**Divalicious:** hey, now. don't U go adopting cornikins's self righteousness, thanx, all right? of course we're worried about her, will, ok?? but we're not stupid, either.

**HeartsDesire:** What's _that_ supposed to mean?? And I do _not_ sound like Cornelia right now.

**TempestEuphoria:** WHAT IRMA'S TRYING TO SAY, PRINCESS, IS THAT THE POWER HAS PROBABLY JUST GONE OUT OVER AT TARANEE'S, AND BOTH SHE AND HER FAMILY ARE MOST LIKELY AT THEIR NEIGHBORS'. BESIDES, IF IT WERE ANYTHING MORE SERIOUS THAN THAT, **YOU**, MOST OF ALL, WOULD KNOW THAT WE **ALL** WOULD BE ABLE TO SENSE IT.

_(She got me there.)_

**HeartsDesire:** Hmm...well yeah, I guess so.... I mean, the whole Guardian bond and stuff, I get it...still, snow storms can be pretty bad and all, you know. It's only natural to worry for your friends during one, magical connection or not.

**Divalicious: **yea, true. but then, i didn't exactly see u rushing to dial 911 the moment we told u that cornelia went out into the storm, herself. shall i go ahead and use the "H" word? U know: "hypocrite." lol but, no, seriously. can't say i blame u at all, your tootsiness. not u, especially, FORRR sure....

**HeartsDesire:** Huh? What do you mean "not you, especially"?? Are you now trying to say that I don't care about Cornelia??

**Divalicious:** wow! someone is pretty pms-ee today...maybe u should go lie down or somethin, and we can all talk later, eh? i mean, all of us, well, negating corny, i'm sure, HAVE been pretty concerned about u and ur fainting spell last nite, before having left that fibsy chasm, and wish we could check on u in person... cuz...yea. that WAS pretty freaking bizarre, u know? even when cornelia had collapsed, too...even though her incident is honestly currently under speculation for urs truly....

_(Wow. I'm really touched. I mean, I knew the girls would be concerned for me and my health after my puzzling onset of dizziness the previous evening, of course. But, still. It was just nice to hear, or read it, rather . . . it honestly began to put me in a better disposition right then. For a while, anyhow. . . .)_

**TempestEuphoria:** **PHOCAS** CHASM, IRMA, FOR THE LAST TIME. AND THAT'S NOT REALLY FAIR TO SAY. I MEAN, YOU SAW CORNELIA. SHE LOOKED PRETTY MESSED UP, JUST AS MUCH AS HER HIGHNESS, TOO....

**Divalicious:** yea. there's a reason for that, hay lin. and it's called "ACTING."

**TempestEuphoria:** WOULD YOU JUST

**HeartsDesire:** Hey! My turn, okay?? First off, I am _not_ "PMS-ee," Irma. But I _am_, yes, admittedly feeling just a little bit "jet laggish" still, although mainly more so from the very long day that I had yesterday, overall. Second, I really _do_ appreciate your guys' care and concern for my well being...it means a lot.

**TempestEuphoria: **YOU'RE VERY WELCOME, WILL! WE DO LOVE YOU, AFTER ALL. SEE, IRMA?? THE PRINCESS IS ON THE MEND, ALREADY. AND CLEARLY, SO IS CORNELIA, IF **SHE** FELT WELL ENOUGH TO GO OUT TODAY...BUT IT **WASN'T** ACTING, I'M SURE. SHE WOULDN'T DO SOMETHING SO MEAN AS THAT.

**Divalicious:** pfft. sure, then...

_(Yeah . . . honestly and sadly, here? I'm a bit inclined to agree with Irma there, and second that "pfft." If it meant she felt that she was somehow being upstaged in some fashion, Cornelia just might do such a thing. Fake it, I mean. Not that I really think she was at all last night, because she really __did__ look just as messed up as I probably had at that moment. But we've all seen her lose her mind, so to speak, on more than one occasion in the past, while competing with some other random girl for the affections of a guy they mutually liked. And she __was__ quite the impressive actress back then, too. . . . So . . . yeah. It __is__ possible, I suppose. . . .)_

**TempestEuphoria: **ANYWAY!! TARANEE'S ALSO OKAY, I'M SURE OF IT!

**HeartsDesire:** Yeah...well, I certainly _hope_ so.... About _both_ of them....

_(Well . . . yeah, okay. I really meant that, even though Cornelia probably wouldn't have said or felt the same way if the shoe were on the other foot, being that she currently hates my guts. . . .)_

**TempestEuphoria: **YEAH...BUT, SINCE WE'RE ON THE TOPIC, PRINCESS...THIS WAS ACTUALLY SOMETHING THAT IRMA WAS TELLING ME, BEFORE YOU GOT HERE, I MEAN, SHE WANTED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT...ONE OF THE MAIN REASONS WHY SHE WAS HOPING YOU'D COME ON AND CHAT, THAT IS....

**Divalicious: **yea, which is also y i said i couldn't blame u for not showing much sympathy for the devil incarnate that is now apparently corny, lately....geez....

_(Ha . . . she called Cornelia "devil incarnate." I mean, it is a tad pushing it, especially since I honestly still view that title fitting Eli a lot better, but still. Classic. . . .)_

**HeartsDesire:** Okay, okay...I'm _extra_ sorry for having snapped at you before, Irma. Really....But like you apparently wanted, I'm here now, so spill. What's this all about??

**Divalicious:** pfft – guy! as if u haven't been noticing! u, being the main, consistent focus of that girl's impending wrath!

**TempestEuphoria:** IRMA...CALM DOWN....YOU PROMISED ME THAT WHEN WE TALKED ABOUT THIS OUT IN THE OPEN, MORE OR LESS, ANYWAY, YOU WOULDN'T GO OVERBOARD....I MEAN, CORNELIA **IS** STILL ALL OF OUR FRIEND AND FELLOW GUARDIAN, SO WE WOULDN'T WANT TO SAY ANYTHING WE MIGHT LATER REGRET....

**Divalicious:** I AM calm, hay! or, at least i was, until u just said all of that gobbledygook! obviously, i'm painfully aware that she's still our friend, for better or for worse, but lately?? it seems to be the latter! not to mention the fact that she seems to always get away with EVERYTHING!

**HeartsDesire:** "Everything??" How so?

**Divalicious:** oh, come off it, will! seriously, here! lookit what hay lin just said! basically censoring me, just so i don't say ne thing too hurtful or spiteful about the girl, out of the sake of our friendship. yet, i bet u my bottom dollar that if SHE was about to vent about ME right now, NO one would really say a word! know why?? because she ALWAYS has something negative to say or complain about something, and i'm tired of the double standard! AND tired of her continued ripping on WILL for god only KNOWS why! oh wait! i know why: because of what we all know and i've already said!

_(Hey, yeah . . . now that I actually think about it, it is sort of true. I mean, it isn't really true that "no one" says a word to Cornelia whenever gripes about this and that. But outside of Irma, herself, saying more than a few comments, either to stifle or egg her on further, the rest of us just sort of turn the other cheek towards it. I suppose it's because it happens so often, we just don't have the energy to constantly "reprimand" Cornelia, anymore, I guess. Still . . . Irma raises a good point. . . .)_

**TempestEuphoria:** UH, IRMA....

**HeartsDesire: **Yeah...Irma, what exactly is that reason??

**Divalicious:** HELLO! r u daft, girlie?? ur having suddenly become the world's most favorite female alive!! it's KILLING her as everyday passes, and kills her MORE, still, that there's not a damned thing she can do about it. so, short of building a time machine and going back in time to either wipe out ur entire royal lineage, or alter it somehow so u wouldn't be a princess ne more, the girl's apparently settled upon making ur life a living hell!!

_(Finally!! Someone else has noticed this, and has profound sympathy for it!!)_

**TempestEuphoria:** NOW, IRMA, **THAT'S** NOT REALLY FAIR...I MEAN, THIS IS A PRETTY BIG ADJUSTMENT FOR **ALL** OF US, OBVIOUSLY FOR PRINCESS WILL, ESPECIALLY....MAYBE CORNELIA **IS**...YEAH, OBVIOUSLY FEELING A BIT JEALOUS FOR IT, BUT SHE MIGHT ALSO BE FEELING LIKE SHE MIGHT BE LOSING THE PRINCESS IN SOME WAY....

**HeartsDesire:** ....You really think so, Hay Lin?

_(I don't really believe so, but, hey. Anything is possible, I suppose, if I, of all people, could have turned out to be an actual princess, after all.)_

**TempestEuphoria:** WELL...HONESTLY, YEAH, I GUESS, YOUR HIGHNESS. I'M SURE ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS, OVERALL, MIGHT BE BEGINNING TO FEEL THAT WAY, IF NOT ALREADY. YA KNOW, LIKE THINGS WILL CHANGE MORE THAN IT HAS ALREADY.

_(Never! I'd much rather rip out my own eyes, or, preferably Eli's eyes, before I'd ever let that happen!)_

**HeartsDesire:** No, way! I love and care for _all_ of you guys, _including_ Cornelia. And _you_ guys, best and most of all know how much this whole royal thing is both infuriating to me, as well as _ruining_ my life as I once knew it. I'm still the same old me and always _will_ be...I'm just a bit more..._knowable_....

**TempestEuphoria:** LOL THAT YOU ARE, P-WILLIE!

**HeartsDesire:** "P-Willie??"

**Divalicious:** p-willie???

_(Ah, the nicknames this girl comes up with, I swear. . . .)_

**TempestEuphoria:** HEHE WELL, YEAH. SINCE YOU'RE NOT SUPER FOND OF BEING ADDRESSED BY YOUR PROPER TITLES AND ALL, AND I HONESTLY FEEL SORT OF WEIRD **NOT** DOING SO FROM NOW ON, I THOUGHT I'D MIX AND MATCH FOR A WHILE TO SEE WHAT FITS. SO FAR, I'VE GOT P-WILLIE, OBVIOUSLY SHORT FOR "PRINCESS." LOL

_(Hmm . . . well, I guess anything's better than "Your Highness," "Princess Wilhelmina," or what have you. So, for now, I'll take it.)_

**Divalicious:** ....ur a deep well, hay lin...a deep well....

**TempestEuphoria:** HEY!

**HeartsDesire:** LoL Judging by the less amount of exclamation points, your sarcastic humor shining through once more, and your having not continued to rant in the last minute and a half or so, is it safe to say that you finally _have_ calmed down now, Irma?

**Divalicious:** meh...not really, no...still a bit, ok, no, a LOT upset over it. i mean, honestly, i sometimes wonder both how and y cornelia's even our friend, with the way she treats some of us at times. and by some of us, i mean primarily ME and again, sadly, U now, chica.

**TempestEuphoria:** WELL, WE **ARE** ALL PRETTY MUCH FOREVER BONDED TO ONE ANOTHER BECAUSE WE'RE ALL GUARDIANS....

**HeartsDesire:** Yeah...and I mean...everyone has their bad days, and ways to deal with it, I guess....

_(Did that really come out of my mouth?? Er, fingertips?? What the hell was I thinking?? Making excuses for Cornelia . . . crazy, me. . . .)_

**Divalicious: **i can't believe u would be willing to defend her after her continuous bad attitude and treatment towards u lately, will.... i guess u really ARE a royal, being so magnanimous now and all, apparently....

**HeartsDesire:** LoL Well...I wouldn't go _that_ far....

_(Yeah, I really wouldn't . . . especially if Irma could only read some of my older journal entries. . . .)_

**Divalicious:** i mean, geez! i've personally been tolerating and having a blind eye to everything with that mrs., lately, but last night was THE final straw! seriously, here! who DOES that?? just becuz will felt ill near or at the same time she did, cornelia has to go through her stupid hissy fit! and what? just cuz her precious man hadn't immediately tended to her? get OVER it! we ALL could have easily been injured or attacked within that thick darkness of that place, ya know!!

**TempestEuphoria:** UH...IRMA...WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT? CALEB **DID** GO TAKE CARE OF CORNELIA ONCE HE SAW THAT SHE HAD FALLEN OVER, AS WELL....

_(Nice save and deflection there, Hay Lin. I am extra glad that she's in on my little love secret, because I honestly wasn't thinking clearly enough at that given moment to do some quick typing, myself. I was too busy getting nervous over it all, instead. I mean, did it mean that not only had Irma seemed to have figured out that I have feelings for Caleb, but that Cornelia was beginning to get wise to it, as well?? I didn't know what to think, but I was beginning to freak out, regardless, because that's the absolute last thing I need right now. But since Cornelia has yet to come after me in regards to that, I think I'm still safe.)_

**Divalicious:** yea, only after U told him to. i was there too, remember?? i saw the whole thing. he COMPLETELY bypassed her and instead caught the princess just before she'd hit the ground!

**HeartsDesire: **Oh, he did? I honestly can't and don't remember much during that time last night...you know, having felt dizzy and all....

_(Hey. It was either say that and pretend to be dumb to it all and unaffected, or continue to sit there in silence . . . which, of course, would only serve to raise whatever growing suspicions Irma might already have against me, who knows?)_

**TempestEuphoria:** CALEB DIDN'T "COMPLETELY BYPASS" CORNELIA, I'M SURE, IRMA...MAYBE HE JUST SAW WILL FALLING FIRST, THAT'S ALL. LIKE YOU SAID, IT WAS PRETTY DARK THERE, AFTER ALL....

_(Good one, Hay Lin. That's exactly what I thought, and still do.)_

**Divalicious:** oh, please! U two loony tunes may not have gotten a clear look or recollection of that moment, but i did. and i know exactly y caleb did what he did, too!

**HeartsDesire:** You do??

**TempestEuphoria:** YOU DO??

_(Oh, God. Here it comes. . . .)_

**Divalicious:** hello! u guys ARE talking to the owner of her fantastic radio station gig, where knowing everything about everyone at ALL times is her job!

**HeartsDesire:** Uh, well, technically, though, _you_ don't actually own the station, Irma – The _school_ does....

**Divalicious:** well, whatever! i bet i could own it, if someone would float a little "donation" my way, if u catch my drift.... but that's for another time and discussion! right now, owner or no, i'm still always up on the latest news and gossip because, well, i have to be...and, because it's just plain fun. lol

**TempestEuphoria:** YEAH, WHEN THAT NEWS AND GOSSIP ISN'T ABOUT YOURSELF, ANYWAY....

**Divalicious:** bingo, baby! although i can and will take ne form of being the center of attention i can get, I will shamelessly admit. hehe ne how! the reason caleb was just all... "whatever!" with going to take care of his girlfriend initially, is because things are totally on the rocks between them!!

_(. . . . Huh?? Talk about throwing a wrench into the mix. Of all the things I expected Irma to say right then, that was at the absolute bottom of the list. This was certainly all news to me, anyway, since, as far as I can tell and have always sadly known, Caleb and Cornelia are tighter than ever . . . well, minus yesterday, anyway. But, hey. At least Irma apparently doesn't seem to yet be aware of how I feel about that or him, so I'm happy about that, anyhow.)_

**HeartsDesire:** _What??_ How do you know this?? That's not _possible!!_ I mean, they're like _soul mates_, you know....

_(Bleh. I really am a freaking glutton for punishment, for real, and can't honestly blame anyone for it but myself. I mean, seriously! I know I was just trying to keep Irma forever off my scent about my true feelings about their relationship, but did I have to go and say such sugary sweet crap in their defense?? God, I am so lame. . . .)_

**TempestEuphoria:** UM...RIGHT. WHAT P-WILLIE JUST SAID.... NOT TO MENTION THE FACT THAT I LIVE WITH THE GUY, REMEMBER? AND HE'S LIKE AN HONEST BROTHER TO ME. SO I THINK THAT I WOULD BE ONE OF THE FIRST PEOPLE TO EITHER KNOW OR REALIZE IF THINGS WERE TOPSY-TURVY WITHIN CALEB'S RELATIONSHIP WITH CORNELIA. BESIDES, IT ISN'T NICE TO SPREAD RUMORS ABOUT ANYONE, IRMA, ESPECIALLY TWO OF OUR CLOSEST FRIENDS....

**Divalicious:** and i wholeheartedly agree, hay. except that, numbah 1: i didn't start OR spread it; my money's on the grumper sisters, in all truth, but even THEY seemed genuinely baffled to hear about it, themselves, when they told me about it yesterday morning, while in the girls' bathroom, in between classes. and besides that? numbah 2: for all their irritating, backstabbing faults they've both possessed in the past, they know i'm still technically their boss, and so wouldn't want to lose their cushy jobs on the radio show, either. one comment about "stifled creativity and comfort" to good ol' principal brooksie, even though he and i DO have our continued love/hate relationship, and those two broads are history! y'know, ne thing to keep his school popular, since he knows full well that my show is what helps make it so.

**TempestEuphoria:** LOL OKAY, EGO LADY. THOSE ARE ALL PRETTY DECENT ARGUMENTS. THAT, AND ALSO BOTH BESS AND COURTNEY HAVE BEEN TRYING TO REPATCH THEIR STILL PRETTY TATTERED "FRIENDSHIP" WITH CORNELIA, TOO, SINCE LAST YEAR, I BELIEVE...SO I DOUBT THAT THEY WOULD WANT TO RISK BLOWING ALL OF THAT BY STARTING AN UNWANTED, ALL OUT BLOODBATH....

_(Too true. The Grumper Sisters haven't exactly been at the top of our "favorite people to hang out or deal with" list over the years, no, mainly because they really have always been pretty shady characters. But they have also honestly been turning over a new leaf within the last two years, laying off the heavy duty, harmful gossip, anyway, while spending the last year, as Hay Lin had said, also trying to rebuild their short lived friendship with Cornelia they'd shared back when we were all fourteen-years-old. They were just understandably too two faced for her liking, and they had been too jealous of her growing popularity, of course . . . not to mention the fact that Courtney had purposefully been caught making out with one of Cornelia's crushes at the time, at the twins' fifteenth birthday. You know, as a way to really stick it to Cornelia. So, yeah. Of course all of those reasons, alone, would be good grounds to end a pretty futile friendship at the time. But I guess, for whatever reason, the ladies have decided to reform, and make amends with the blonde Earth Guardian, finally, now that they've seemed to mature a lot more, as well, and have their own popularity to harvest, due to working on Irma's radio show. Of course, if it turns out that they really are just lying and spreading rumors like the old days, then they can definitely kiss both their newfound relationship with Cornelia and lives goodbye, because she will honestly pummel them both straight into the ground, without the assistance of her Earth wielding abilities. . . .)_

**HeartsDesire:** So...wait. I'm confused, here. _Is_ it, or _isn't_ it just a rumor and made up story by either the Grumpers or someone else? And, moreover, if it _isn't_, how would _they_ know and found out?? Even with their renewed friendship with her, I highly doubt that Cornelia would share this tidbit with they, of all people. Maybe with Elyon, of course, being her top best friend and all, but given that Ellie wouldn't blab, regardless, is back in Metamoor and hasn't returned to Earth in a while, as far as we all know, I can't imagine to whom else Cornelia would ever let know that she and Caleb may no longer be on the up and up in regards to their relationship...a relationship that the majority of the youth within this town is fully aware of and both admires as well as envies, I might add....

_(Including myself, although more so on the envy side, I neglected to add right there. . . . Hmm, imagine that, right?)_

**TempestEuphoria:** HEHE GOOD POINT, YOUR HIGHNESS...YEAH....NOT ANY OF **US**, PERSONALLY, THOUGH! OF COURSE NOT! WHY WOULD WE?? ENVY IT, I MEAN!

_(Geez, Hay Lin. Are you honestly trying to protect my cover, or blow it, after all?? Lordie . . . why not make it any more obvious for Irma, whose attention span is thankfully on the short side at times. . . .)_

**Divalicious:** oookay....?? ANYWAY! even if one of us wanted to, linny, envy their relationship, that is, there'd be no point now, since they've apparently hit a snag, thanks to goldilocks. of course, granted, i'm still verifying my facts, here, from bess and courtney, and gotta honestly find out where they'd heard all this from and by who...but u guys remember that stupid e-mail caleb sent to cornelia, and then she read it aloud to all of us that one morning, much to our dismay??

**TempestEuphoria:** YEAH??

**HeartsDesire: **...Yeah?

_(Goodie, that Irma's attention span had come through for me right then, and didn't seem to find it that weird how Hay Lin was a bit too overly dramatic about the envy thing . . . but bad, nonetheless, that Irma just had to go and bring up that damned e-mail I'd ridiculously thought Caleb had truly meant for me, instead, once upon a time. . . . Will this ever end, this accursed nightmare of mine??)_

**Divalicious:** yea, well, we all saw how absolutely elated – and annoying – that had made corny. apparently so much so, that she had planned this uber-special, romantic dinner date over on lookout point a couple nights ago....

**HeartsDesire: **Lookout Point?? Isn't that....

**TempestEuphoria:** ....WHERE ALL THE TEENAGERS GO TO...LOSE THEIR VIRGINITES????

_(Oh, God . . . please say it ain't so. . . . As though I don't already have enough things to lament over, please do not add potential . . . "relations" and such between those two to the list. I refuse to believe that you, deity, could be that cruel to me. . . .)_

**Divalicious:** exactly!!!! those two drove up there, got all cozy and comfy, and one thing led to another, and then...BAM!! and NOW, cornelia's all extra pissed and stuff because caleb's been acting really weird around her or something since then, and so she now feels totally rejected!! and...i honestly feel a bit sorry for her for that, since, hello? wow...this is BIG. no. this is bigger than big. this is...HUGE!! i mean, i always knew that when and if those two decided to go all the way with someone BEFORE marriage, it'd be with each other, u know? then again, i also always figured that they WOULD get married to each other, as well, and thus kill two birds with one stone. but ne way! i

**TempestEuphoria:** WAIT, A SECOND, HERE! SLOW DOWN, IRMA, AND BACK UP!! THERE IS **NO** WAY THAT THIS REALLY HAPPENED!!

_(Oh, please . . . please let Hay Lin be right about that. . . .)_

**Divalicious: **and why the hell NOT?? they've been together for a pretty long while now, and ne one with EYES can see how much they love each other, as fabulously GROSS as that is most of the time... it was only a matter of time, i told u!!

_(Someone shoot me, please, and put me out of my misery. . . .)_

**TempestEuphoria: **WELL...I GUESS! BUT STILL! THIS IS** CORNELIA** WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HERE! THE ONE WHO ALWAYS SAYS THAT UNLESS "HE PUTS A **RING** ON IT, HE'S NOT **GETTING** IT," IN REGARDS TO THE GUY WHO WOULD TAKE HER VIRGINITY. SHE TOOK A LOT OF PRIDE IN THAT, JUST ABOUT. **NOW** YOU EXPECT ME, **US**, TO BELIEVE THAT JUST A COUPLE OF NIGHTS AGO, A **SCHOOL** NIGHT, NO LESS, THOSE TWO...YOU KNOW??

**Divalicious:** "had sex," hay lin. it's okay. it won't bite u to say. ne way, YES, that's what i'm telling u i found out, ok?? oh, and for the record? the overactive, psychotic hormones of horny, lovesick teenagers yields for no one and nothing, and that INCLUDES a school nite, as that apparently is difficult for u to believe, lovely...

_(Yeah, seriously . . . Got damned hormones and stupid teenagers, even though I'm still one, myself!!!! I hate this!!!!)_

**TempestEuphoria:** BUT...CALEB...I MEAN, LIKE I SAID, HE'S **TOTALLY** LIKE A **BROTHER** TO ME, AND I'M NOT SAYING THAT I KNOW HIM INSIDE AND OUT, SINCE HE **DOES** STILL GENERALLY KEEP HIS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS TO HIMSELF...BUT THERE'S JUST **NO** WAY....

**Divalicious:** sigh...face it, lin. emotional brick wall or not, ur "brother" is still a GUY...with natural, primal urges. and i guess when he saw his "hottie" of a woman offering far more than just the usual snack for once, he obviously went on ahead and took the entire kitchen, is all...

**TempestEuphoria: **EWW, **GROSS**, IRMA!! I AM **TELLING** YOU!! NOT POSSIBLE!!

_(By this point, I felt super dizzy and queasy all over again, just like last night at the chasm and again right now, honestly, to be re-reading everything so soon. . . . Why did Irma have to be so freaking graphic and apparently nonchalant about it all?? Not to mention I couldn't tell yet if Hay Lin was preferring to fight it and remain in denial because she was maybe on my side for it and really was just as grossed out and taken aback as I now was and forever will be, or because she just couldn't yet bring herself to look at her semi-"adopted brother" as an actual man, who was growing up and now doing what every other typical, asshole, heartbreaking man does. . . . Sorry . . . still venting and reeling from the heinous discovery. . . .)_

**Divalicious:** well, did he come home late at ne time in the last few weeks, when it wasn't with U because of take out deliveries from the silver dragon, or for studying??

**TempestEuphoria:** WELL....

**Divalicious:** i rest my case! but NOW, he apparently regrets the whole thing, too, or is at least awkward about it, and cornelia senses it, and THAT'S y she's been such a pill and...U know, AND y he completely dodged her to instead help willio-string-cheese last night while in metamoor! and as for the rest of the time cornelia's been bitchy towards will, we've already covered: b/c will's stinking rich now, while blondie's just... "regular rich," i guess, i dunno. i'm not wealthy, myself...yet, ne way, so i of course don't know the official terminology, if there is some.

**HeartsDesire:** WOULD YOU GUYS JUST QUIT IT?? These are our _friends_, crabby and pissed off, or _not!!_ This isn't _right_ to be talking about their personal lives so frivolously, _especially_ over something so _EXTREMELY_ personal and life changing!!

_(Well, what?? I hadn't been able to say a word since the start of this horrid topic, thanks to my ongoing shock and potential panic attack, but I honestly couldn't take it anymore. It was just too much to hold in any longer, and if I had to sit there and continue to read Irma's poorly timed jokes or imitation apathy, or Hay Lin's written hyperventilation over the entire ordeal any longer, I was going to absolutely lose it more than I had already. Enough was enough. . . .)_

**TempestEuphoria:** WOW...WE'RE SORRY, PRINCESS...YOU'RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT. I SHOULD, NO, **WE** SHOULD KNOW BETTER....I GUESS I JUST SORT OF GOT SWEPT UP WITHIN THE ENTIRE THING, IS ALL....

**Divalicious:** "wow" is right...i guess u really AREN'T still feelin' well, babe, cuz u've just either been super quiet and/or snapping at us left and right throughout this convo...well, snappin' at me, mostly, but i forgive u b/c u don't do it very often, overall.... is this because ur feeling nervous for our upcoming interview u promised me u'd give on my show soon??

_(. . . . What?? Was she serious?? Talk about the weirdest, or most unique segue, ever. . . .)_

**HeartsDesire:** Huh?? When did I _"promise"_ you that I'd do one with you?? You just brought it up, just like Hay Lin had for wanting to do a _portrait_ of me for her art class or whatever, but I don't honestly remember my response to _either_ request....

_(I really don't . . . do you, journal?? I hope it was "No". . . .)_

**TempestEuphoria:** **SQUEE!!** THANKS FOR REMINDING ME, P-WILLIE! I TOTALLY BLANKED OUT ON THAT, THANKS TO ALL THE HOMEWORK AND **OTHER** PROJECTS I'VE STILL GOTTA DEAL WITH!! WE **HAVE** TO START MEETING UP SOMEWHERE SO WE CAN SETTLE ON THE LOOK THAT WILL BE BEST BEFORE I IMMORTALIZE YOU!! HEHE

**Divalicious:** yea well, u can "immortalize" her all u want with ur paint and fun time, hay lin, but my interview with the marsilian princess is going to be one for the record books! for one thing, it will be her absolute first, and will make all others AFTER it look like a disgrace! oh! not U, honey, of course! i meant the reporters. lol in fact, i've already written up a few questions i might try asking u, but wanted to run it by u first, just in case! i'll e-mail it to u later, ok??

**HeartsDesire: **I can't believe this....

_(Just like Irma won't be able to believe that hers technically would or will not be the "first ever" interview I will have as "Princess Wilhelmina," seeing as Mr. Scrummy Yummy Emin Evgar had been promised, courtesy of stupid Eli, to have the premiere exclusive with me, himself, in exchange for the "media prowess" lesson he'd given to me during my second princess lesson, I'm very surprised that I can remember . . . although, given how deliciously steamy that man was, I can't say that I'm honestly surprised. See?? If only Emin were a bit younger, I would so totally go after him, I swear it, since he makes it so easy for me to forget all about my would be romance and social troubles . . . if only for the time being. . . . Oh, well. It figures, right? Anyhow, back to Irma. I guess she'd just have to settle being the first "kid" to interview me, or whatever, I don't know.)_

**TempestEuphoria:** HUH?

**Divalicious: **what?

**HeartsDesire:** _One_ minute, you're talking about how mean Cornelia's been being, which, I obviously won't bother to try denying, as it _has_ been wearing kinda thin, yes...but since _I've_ been having more than _my_ fair share of "bad days," myself, lately, I've just been trying _really_ hard not to point fingers over it....

**Divalicious: **oook...and right. that's precisely y ur the "magnanimous princess," i told u, remember?? although, how u could possibly be having ne more "bad days," EVER, now that ur a royal celebrity is supremely beyond me....

_(Sigh . . . she really doesn't get it, does she??)_

**HeartsDesire: **_Whatever!! _Anyway_, then_ you drop this _major_ bomb on us and start in about how neither Caleb _nor_ Cornelia are virgins anymore, apparently, and how it really _is_ this super big deal, but within the same breath are already moving onto interviews and portraits and all this _other_ nonsense!

**Divalicious:** well...i don't really think it's nonsense... =(

_(Ha . . . that was actually kind of cute to me, there, mainly because I could picture the precise, infamous "pouty face" Irma does whenever she wants instant sympathy at times. . . .)_

**TempestEuphoria:** ...I THINK WHAT THE PRINCESS IS TRYING TO SAY, IRMA, IS THAT, RUMOR OR NO, IT'S A LITTLE **TOO** INTRUSIVE TO KNOW THIS MUCH ABOUT OUR FRIENDS, **ESPECIALLY** SINCE THEY HAVEN'T YET TOLD US OF THEIR OWN ACCORD, AND SINCE IT'S ALREADY BECOMING WORD ON THE STREET....OF **COURSE** IT'D BE VERY AWKWARD FOR THEM BOTH, NOW...AND **WE'VE** JUST BEEN GABBING AWAY ABOUT IT, LIKE IT'S SOME COMMON THING.... I FEEL **HORRIBLE**, NOW....

**Divalicious:** great...thanks, hay lin...when u go and put it that way, now I'M feeling bad...and i'm not even the one who's been spreading it around, or whatever, either!! ur the only two i've bothered to tell, and obviously would've shared it with 'ranee, too, if she'd been able to come into this room to chat, or could use her phone...although i'm sort of relieved now, seeing as SHE'D probably guilt trip the PISS right out of me, too....

_(Very, very true, seeing as T's usually our moral compass for, well, just about everything we may come across within our lives.)_

**HeartsDesire:** ....Well...whatever, you guys. My _point_ is, I know what it's like, now, to be put underneath the microscope for all to look at and watch screw up, or _something,_ in some _way_.... If either of them are aware of this somehow having become increasingly public knowledge, then this entire ordeal's going to get _a lot _worse before it gets better...so I think that we should all not say a word or make allusions to knowing about it, until either of them are ready to tell us, themselves – Although I _highly_ doubt that Caleb would ever _dare_ say a word about it to _any_ of us – _Girls_, I mean...To Matt or perhaps Eric, or even Nigel, maybe, but...yeah....

_(Ugh . . . there goes that damned, pesky conscience of mine flaring up again, what with me yet again defending the good name and honor of Cornelia and Caleb's relationship, like I'm a big fan of it, or something. Cripes. . . .)_

**TempestEuphoria: **WOW...SEE?? THIS IS EXACTLY WHY YOU'RE OUR LEADER, P-WILLIE. EVEN IN TIMES OF CRISIS...OR SUPER HEARTWRENCHING MOMENTS AS THIS, YOU **STILL** POSSESS A COOL AND COLLECTED HEAD, AS WELL AS BIG HEART!

_(Ah, gee . . . I didn't need embarrassment on top of every other chaotic, unstable emotion I was already feeling right then. . . . And I most certainly could have done without Hay Lin's slight slip of how extra personal all of this really is for me, too. . . .)_

**Divalicious: **i second that emotion, tots. but y would it be heart wrenching for will?? or ne one of us, for that matter?? i mean, CORNELIA'S the one having to deal with the massive egg on her face over this, now....

_(See? Irma had to go and query about the "heart wrenching" remark of Hay Lin's. Too close for comfort, people, I'm telling you. . . .)_

**TempestEuphoria:** HUH?? THAT'S WHAT I MEANT!! HEHE JUST...YEAH, THAT BEING SO EMPATHETIC AND ALL, PRINCESS WILL MOST LIKELY NOW FEELS CORNELIA'S PAIN....**ANYWAY!!** I THINK WE SHOULD DEFINITELY JUST ACT LIKE WE DON'T KNOW, AND JUST CONTINUE TO LEND SUPPORT UNTIL WE CAN FIND THE CULPRIT WHO STARTED THIS WHOLE MESS!

_(Not the best, or creative save, Hay Lin, but it will do. . . .)_

**Divalicious:** way ahead of u on that one, lady. i'm texting the grumper sisters as we speak...er, type, rather, and telling them to get their gossiping P.I. butts in gear, and pump the person THEY'D heard it from dry until they crack! no worries, u guys. if this really IS just a hoax, u'd best believe i'll be the first one to find that out, for sure.

**TempestEuphoria: **YEAH...FOR CALEB **AND** CORNELIA'S SAKE, IT **BETTER** BE....

_(I couldn't take anymore of talking about Caleb and Cornelia and did they, or didn't they do the "horizontal tango" any longer, let alone talk anymore, period, so I just had to bail right then and there. . . .)_

**HeartsDesire: **Um...guys, on _that_ note, I'd better get going.... I'm being "summoned" for a late lunch now. I've gotta get started on finishing my homework finally, too, anyway....

_(At least it wasn't a complete lie, since I really did and still do have to get on working on my homework, finally, since the afternoon's nearly half over . . . well, kinda. But at least Eli really didn't bother me to go eat lunch right then, or else I probably would have shot his chest full of one of my lightning bolts if he had, in all honesty.)_

**Divalicious: **ah, no problemo! wouldn't wanna interfere with the daily affairs of royalty! hehe we commoners will simply go tend to our own homework, as well, then! i'm gonna send u the list of interview questions in just a bit, though, too, ok?? u can look it over later tonight, if u can.

**TempestEuphoria:** LOL STOP, IRMA...P-WILLIE'S A DOWN TO EARTH PRINCESS, REMEMBER? **ANYWAY!** YOU GO ENJOY YOUR LUNCH, YOUR HIGHNESS, AND GET SOME MORE REST, ALL RIGHT? MAYBE A NICE, WARM BUBBLE BATH WILL HELP YOU FEEL BETTER FOR EVERYTHING....

_(Yeah . . . I caught her hidden message within that "everything" . . . but I doubt a simple bath would even begin to come close to making me "feel better". . . .)_

**HeartsDesire: **Yeah...maybe.... See you guys later.

**HeartsDesire has left "W.I.T.C.H.y Women"**

And that was it. Well, I wish I could honestly say "that was it," as though, number one, it was a short conversation, and two, as though it'll be the last I will ever have to focus _or_ hear about it again.

God only _knows_ how much I wish I _could_. . . .

Why _does_ this keep happening to me?? Like it wasn't bad _or_ hard enough to constantly be forced to face the fact that my love for Caleb is most likely _the_ most useless love currently within existence, but _now_ I have to _also_ deal with the _very_ strong, possible fact that he'd chosen _Cornelia_ to go all the way with!!!!

I can't even bring myself to _say_ it, let alone _write_ it, the actual phrase, in the way Irma had earlier on within our conversation . . . I mean, it's a miracle that I _could_ even write "go all the way with" just now. . . .

I mean, not that I ever thought for a _minute_ that Caleb and _I_ would . . . _you_ know, as I honestly never thought much about that. Mainly because I've always been so busy trying to hold onto the futile hope that he would be able to see me as actual girlfriend material, let _alone_ a possible _lover_.

And besides, I, too, like Cornelia, have always wanted to wait until I'm married to do . . . _that_.

I _can_ totally say the word, journal. I'm not a _super_, super prude. It's just that, _if_ I say, er, _write_ it out right now, and to myself, then the visuals will start to pop into my head of those two . . . _kissing_ and then . . . _touching_, and then . . . _ugh!!_

I can't!!

I seriously _can't_ do this anymore!!

I really _do_ need a boyfriend, and fast! I know I've written this before, but I'm _dead_ serious and set upon it, this time.

_Anyone _(since I can't have Emin, either),I don't care who, so long as he's into me. Then I can just force myself to like him back, and in time it might actually stick, and then we'll ride off into the sunset together.

Okay, well maybe not, since I'll honestly settle for just having a good _time_ with the guy.

But, still!

Awkwardness or no, Caleb chose _Cornelia_. He chose her because he truly _does_ love her. And just because they're going through a bad patch right now or whatever, apparently, nothing will ever change that.

After all, that's how most couples know there are real feelings involved, right? When they actually can and do fight on occasion. It shows that they really _do_ care if things may not be working within their relationship, and thus will try to fix it.

. . . . And I can't believe I'm actually trying to find reasons to further validate this maybe/maybe not rumor about the equally maybe/maybe not virgins.

_God_, has _my_ life truly hit rock bottom, now. . . .

The notion of having a therapist is looking more and more appealing, right about now. . . .

Irma might be right: I just _might_ be too "magnanimous," after all . . . _especially_ since I really _did_ mean every word I'd said in the chat room in both Cornelia's and Caleb's defense. . . .

I mean, as agonizing as it is to find all of this out, and as much of a major snob _and_ pain in my ass Cornelia's been to me lately and over things I really _can't_ change like Irma already pointed out (save the whole time machine idea, or, the more practical, easy approach as giving up my title in the official manner, as I still plan to do, when all of this is said and done), both she and Caleb _are_ still my friends . . . for the most part.

And, _really_ here. If anyone, _anyone_ could possibly understand how potentially mortifying this debacle could become, if not already, _and_ having it be made known to the masses this way, it's _me_.

I mean, I complain and vent all the time over how I just wish for some privacy again and not to be watched like a hawk, right? I'd be a pretty big hypocrite, indeed, to revel within _another's_ soon to be misery . . . even _if_ that person, or _persons_, rather, happen to be my idiotic heart's adulation, and the girl who took _any_ chance of being with him, no matter _how_ minute, away from me. . . .

Sigh . . . well, at least I can say _one_ "good" thing has come out of this so far: I now know why, or have a better understanding, rather, over why Caleb had caught _me_ over his own girlfriend . . . I suppose the renewed physical contact between the two, and of that magnitude, would have been too soon for him, or something. . . .

The only thing I _don't_ understand, though, is why _would_ he be so awkward about it? I mean, unless either both or one of them really _stunk_ at . . . _you_ know, the _"act,"_ I would think that it'd have been one of, if not _the_ best night and experience of their lives. . . .

_Especially_ for Caleb, since he's, again, a _guy_.

I don't know. I do not want to think about it, anymore! I just _really_ hope, true or not, it all dies down soon, and we, well, namely _I_, can move on with my life without focusing upon it too much.

Geez . . . methinks I _will_ go take that hot bubble bath Hay Lin had recommended, since this snow day just keeps on getting better and better. . . .

**-- End of Chapter Forty Four**

**

* * *

**

**(A.N. WHAT?? Caleb and Cornelia had SEX?? And I'M actually writing about such a "sensitive" topic within one of my stories, after I repeatedly express my distaste of such an act for any story that involves "youngins??" What is going on???? ....I don't know. LoL Honestly, this is probably going to be the first and last time you will ever read me illustrating such a topic within any of my stories that wouldn't involve adults as main characters, etc. Like I've said before, the majority of active members, readers, rather, on this site, are very young, and the majority of THEM read my stories. So, with that being the case and that age group still being pretty impressionable, I try to avoid writing this kinda stuff at all costs. Not judging anyone else who might/actually, do, and most of you know this. Just saying that this is how I prefer to keep my writing, unless I label it "M" or post it on "" instead, or something. **

**ANYWAY!! LoL It all makes sense, now!! Why Cornelia's been extra extra sour, and why Caleb's being even more aloof and stupid than he generally is! AND why he was kinda extra reprimanding of her during their Guardian mission, any time she'd snap and come out of her face, when he normally stays silent about it. Go, me! LoL Poor Corny, though; such a major blow to willingly give yourself to the guy you love, and then he just wants to act like it never happened. Whatever shall she do?? Most likely not give up without a fight, I'm sure. LoL**

**Poor Will, too, to have to find out about it at all. I know I'D be super crushed, for sure. I dunno about YOU guys, though, but I definitely think it's about TIME will gets a new beau to sweep her off her feet, don't you?? Glad SHE'S on board, finally, because ask, and you shall receive! Or will she?? Hmm.... Mwa ha haaaaa....HeHe**

**One thing that bugs me, though, even though I wrote it. LoL Irma and Hay Lin were a little TOO liberal with talking about their Guardian and otherworldly affairs at the beginning of their chat room convo, don'tcha think?? Just cuz it's a private room doesn't mean the admins aren't still about, and overlooking things to make sure it isn't one of those "illegal," creepy conversations, that end up on an episode of Dateline or whatever. LoL But I guess they were just too confident no one would get it, anyways...which is probably also why Hay Lin named the room "W.I.T.C.H.y Women," too. HeHe Which I hope some of you got it. Ya know, in reference to that awesome song by the Eagles, "Witchy Woman." Wooo hoo, witchy woman!! HeHe **

**And I know that yooze guys like Irma's and Hay Lin's screen names. LoL And, for you fellow "Tin Man" fans, I'm sure when Irma said to Hay Lin: "ur a deep well, hay lin," it might've made you think of Cain when he said that to Glitch...those two are SO cute! Just make them an official canon couple, already!! HeHe**

**Anyway! More updates to come, so please be patient, and read/like/review this, 'till then! And if I don't update before Christmas and/or New Year's, since this X-Mas is going to be EXTRA busy for me, HAPPY CHRISTMAS, AND MERRY NEW YEAR, ALL!!!! HeHe)**


	46. Chapter Forty Five

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Yay, I'm back! I've been super duper busy, in general, and super duper busy writing updates to multiple ficcies of mine on here. I won't even bother to name which ones, because then you'll all be all, "Hurry, up!!" on me. LoL But just know I've been faithfully and tirelessly working for all of you and your continued enjoyment. =)_

_Now, do me a favor, please?? Actually review this chapter, and not just read it. HeHe Let's make it to 400 reviews, woo!! LoL_

* * *

This chapter was created/written in February 2009.

* * *

**Chapter Forty Five**

**Friday, November 10th, Biology**

"_Would I were dead, if God's good will were so, For what is in this world but grief and woe?"_

Yeah, you tell 'em, Willy.

Now, _that_ man had the right idea and mentality about life; maybe _I_ should adopt it as my own. Wouldn't be much of a change, anyway, since I _already_ feel pretty dead inside today as it is.

Which is why it is a good thing today is going to be over soon (hopefully _sooner_ than soon), due to the two hour delay my school got, courtesy, of course, of the mounds of snow Heatherfield had gotten all throughout yesterday.

It's also a good thing that we're only stuck watching a (pretty boring, I will admit) video about the endocrine and nervous system right now, since we're still within that unit. And, lastly, it is also good that I, again, rock in science, I will shamelessly brag, so I don't have to actually pay super close attention to it right now.

Just wish that _Martin_ would pay _less_ attention to _me_ right now, since both he and his bud, Alec, keep watching me from time to time. Well, most people in this and every other class I have watch me nowadays, of course, to see "what the Princess will do next!" and all that.

But most of _them_ don't have apparent crushes on me the way that _these_ two do.

Well, no.

I'm pretty sure that quite a few within my school, and perhaps even around the entire town do now, sure, but none of them are currently sitting next to me, being super obvious with their incessant, obnoxious gawking.

If only I hadn't forgotten to ask Irma yesterday for her opinion on how to best handle this situation, with minimal to no hurt feelings on Martin's end. Well, on Alec's, as well, but I don't really know the guy, honestly.

Of course, it is of no true surprise that I had managed to let it slip my mind at the time, considering I was too busy reeling from the monstrously disgusting news of Caleb and Cornelia having "bumped pelvises" with one another not too long ago, apparently.

It's an honest wonder that I'd managed to get the rest of my homework done, alongside started on my projects yesterday, after getting offline with Hay Lin and Irma. I mean, seriously. How could _anyone's_ mind function after hearing something like that, even if no romantic feelings for either party were involved, as they are (or had been, as I like to continue to mislead my mind) for me?

I couldn't get the visual out of my head for about, an hour or so, just sitting within my bedroom and on my bed like a catatonic fool, while my eyes blindly stared straight ahead and watched the endlessly falling snow.

After that, I don't honestly remember much. I suppose that I had eaten, maybe had also spoken to my mother or to Eli (which I _highly_ doubt, on both ends, mindless state or no) in the process, gotten dressed early for bed and somehow managed to squeeze in completing my schoolwork in the process, all while on autopilot.

Maybe I should have shocking blows to my psyche more often.

And then, of course, as already written, I'd woken up (fourteen hours later, I might add; I _definitely_ needed that _more_ than goodnight's sleep) to find out that it was a two hour delay. Which, I just realized, is even _more_ awesome, because the snowstorm had also come in handy in making today a "B" day, instead of the "A" day it had originally been, seeing as there wasn't school yesterday.

Which means, thank you, sweet merciful Jesus, I won't have to deal with stupid Mary at _all_ today, since I have gym class on those days. The _last_ thing I need is to hear her idiotic platitudes and false placating all freaking period, because I would probably and quite honestly break her face, at long last.

And I doubt I'd get detention for it, too, the way Principal Brooks is practically in love with me now.

Okay, well, maybe I _would_ get detention, but I doubt that it'd stick, I should say, if I'd bother to sweet talk my way out of it and played the "Royal Card," which I absolutely refuse to do under any circumstance.

But, boy, would it be _so_ worth the punishment, to finally clock that girl.

I digress.

Despite the later start within my day, I nonetheless had "my" usual makeup, hair and wardrobe team at the ready for me once I had gotten up to start getting ready for class. I've pretty much given up the fight on trying to dissuade any of them, _especially_ Malvina and Mabelle (who are always so gung ho and "in the zone" with their work each morning they come in to prep me), to leave well enough alone, so I just sat within my usual seat, all "zombied" out until they were all finished.

At least my current wardrobe, its color, that is, is appropriate in matching my drastically dismal mood, though.

And since I'm extra bored at the moment, I will bother to entertain you, fair journal, with another play-by-play of what I'm currently adorned in this time:

**WILL VANDOM'S "PRINCESS GEAR" (AGAIN, AS SHE REFERS TO IT) LIST, DAY . . . WHATEVER THIS DAY IS. OH, YEAH. THREE (SHE THINKS, BUT DOESN'T CARE, BECAUSE THIS WILL NEVER END, OF THAT SHE'S QUITE SURE)**

● One, gray, very comfy cowl neck sweater (that I could easily wear off the shoulder if I wanted to and were feeling "sexy and flirty" right now, but obviously that's a big, giant _"No"_), with a pretty cute sass wrapped around the waist

● One, ultra-low rise, once again bootcut, black colored pants (that are, I will say, more flattering on me than my last pair, even though they did make me appear taller just as Malvina had tipped me on, since these are currently doing _wonders_ for my "cutey-booty"'s overall appearance and shape. Not that I've ever had a super flat butt or anything, no, but basically, I am _loving_ these jeans. There, I said it.)

● One, buckle-front, gray plaid (I know, seriously. _Plaid_. But surprisingly, it isn't really all that bad looking, this coat, despite its pattern choice), wool and polyester coat

● One pair of black monogram, quilted coach boots with fur trim (and thank goodness for them, too, or else I'd have repeatedly fallen flat on my _ass_ when making my way into the front entrance of the school, earlier this morning after having left the limousine)

● One pair of diamond hoop earrings in eighteen karat (went up four karats this time, I see, from the other diamond earrings I'd worn a few days back) white gold. (Again, it's a good thing I once again do not have gym class today, because I would most assuredly lose these undoubtedly supremely expensive babies)

**- IN ADDTION -  
**

● One simple hairstyle of loose curls with my continual Inverted Bob, hair down this time (which works for me, because I'm getting tired of having to deal with the excessive hairpins and holding spray polluting my "used-to-be-messy-by-nature" locks)

**- AND -**

● One "Natural" makeup appearance, yet again (because my stylists do know by now that I would lop off their _arms_ if they'd ever tried putting on anything heavier than that. _Tch_. Yeah, _right_. Like listening to me would go far, even _if_ they'd ever bother to, since Eli would probably be right there, bitching and moaning for them to carry on, anyhow. But _so_ far, he seems to prefer or silently agree, anyhow, that less truly _is_ more)

As much as I really _can't_ stand the continual monotony (I'm surprised I even know this word; I'm finally moving on up to the "big time" in regards to my expanding vocabulary, people!) that each morning brings, whenever I have to get dressed and go out in public, at least everyone involved is usually sensible about it.

That is, this new ensemble is quite warm, to the point of nearly _sweating_, thanks to the added heat inside of the school.

But I'll always take warmth over _frigidness_ any day, considering how bone chilling it was outside.

You know, not to sound jinxing or anything like that, but I don't honestly know how a lot of the kids in here made it into class, at all (those who had driven themselves, I mean), since the roads are still so horrible and dangerously slippery, even _with_ the mounds of salt thrown onto them, courtesy of the salt trucks all throughout the previous evening.

It's a pretty damned shame, though, that "my" limousine apparently has "super awesome tires" that not only was it _and_ its driver able to get me to school at all, but with greater speed and ease than should have been allotted, in my opinion, given the wintry conditions surrounding it.

_Figures_.

Still, being here right now is good, I suppose.

Well, I mean, not good to being around all these freaking people, _especially_ not around both Cornelia and Caleb later on today.

_Hell_, no.

No. It's only for the sake of having something to do, schoolwork, etcetera, that I'm "happy," because it will help to further distract me from my ongoing nightmare that is, in fact, my _life_.

Oh, yeah.

As If the repulsiveness of that "probably-going-to-become-an-even-_more_-hot-supermodel-after-graduating-high-school" blonde, and her "pretends-to-be-the-silent-but-sensitive-and-caring-type" boy-toy wasn't enough to have to grapple, I'd completely forgotten that I have a stupid family dinner date thing at _Le Beau Expérience_ later on tonight.

It's all coming back to me now, now that my mind has come back to the land of the living . . . sort of.

But I now do remember waking up, and my mom was already gone for work. Which, of course, worked for me, because I have nothing to say to her -- _Yet_, anyway. I _will_ eventually ask her why and how could she frivolously throw away a pretty good (from what I'd observed, much to my chagrin most of the time) relationship by cheating on Dean like that??

I mean, seriously.

Not to say that my mother's some rickety, old _crone_ or anything here, but she isn't exactly getting any _younger_, either, if you catch my drift. She hadn't exactly been doing a lot of dating ever since the debacle that was my _father_, and Dean had been her first, real and lasting relationship since her divorce (well, that I can remember, anyway).

How convenient, though, that she chooses to finally "get back onto the horse," so to speak, with a fierce vengeance, after she'd finally snagged a pretty decent man.

God, I will never understand cheaters, for the life of me . . . even _if_ they happen to be your own flesh and blood.

Anyway, so Mom's gone, but Eli's still around, although he, too, was about to leave, himself. Where? Who _cares?_ The point is, he was _leaving_, although it didn't really do _me_ much good, since I, too, was about to depart for class, anyhow.

No, I remember that it was just another stupid, boring conference meeting he had to attend, with Italy or France -- One of them, I don't know.

But before he left, he started to remind me to "not delay in returning back here, no later than four o'clock, so that you can prepare and pick out an appropriate outfit to wear to dinner this evening. And, of course, to ready yourself for your test."

I was honestly only hearing every other word at the time because of my temporary stupor, so I just idiotically (I say idiotically, because I should _never_ simply comply to anything that man says, even _if_ it were something useful or lifesaving like, "Don't go into that building, because it's about to _blow!!_") nodded, I believe, and said something like, "Sure, whatever."

Methinks Eli seemed to have noticed my mannequin-like state, because I remember him stopping short on his way to the door, turning around and actually smiled softly at me. No matter how many times that may occur (which hasn't been often, of course), it never, _ever_ stops being creepy to me.

But, I think he only did it, because he apparently (and mortifyingly so) seems to have caught on that I kind of have a thing for Mr. Scrumdiddilyumptious Emin Evgar.

Yeah. _Seriously_.

Because even though he was nearly flying out of the door, he takes the time to let me know that, "if it's of any sort of consolation to you, since I am quite positive you still do not wish to be a part of this outing with your mother and I, Mr. Evgar shall be joining us, as well. He shall yet again be our honored guest . . . ahem, amongst _another_, to discuss the possible upcoming openings for the television interview he had been promised to conduct with you -- In exchange for tutoring you during your second princess lesson, as I am sure you might recall. . . . Good day to you, then, Princess Wilhelmina. . . ."

See what I mean?? He _totally_ knows that I would like to someday have that man's babies!! Of all the people to realize, why'd it have to be my damned _uncle??_

_Disgusting_. . . .

Maybe Eli's _not_ as oblivious as I've always surmised, then . . . or, maybe _I'm_ not as _subtle_ as I'd originally surmised.

But I don't even remember flirting with Emin, or saying or doing anything to give off the vibe that I was kind of into him during our lesson. . . .

Damn.

It _must_ have been during dinner, when, hello, I couldn't stop _blushing_ and smiling some, while sneaking little glances within his direction when he wasn't looking.

Obviously _Eli_ had been, sadly.

I would be a lot more upset and worried that maybe he might try to use this as some sort of blackmail to do whatever he wants without grief, if I weren't admittedly pretty enthusiastic to get to see my new, possible future husband (Ha! _Right_. . . . ) again . . . even _if_ it has to be with my disastrous family present.

Hey . . . wait a second.

From the way Eli had worded it, it sounds like someone _else_ might be joining us to dinner tonight, as well. But who?

Well, besides the obvious paparazzi I know for sure will be swarming around the outside (and even inside, who knows?) of the restaurant.

Could it be that chick, what's her name, who was also at the same princess lesson as Emin and was busy schooling me on body language or whatever it was (God, do I really have to look over those stupid notes)?

Uh . . . _Min!_ That's it! Min Wen, I'm pretty sure.

Yeah, I remember that she'd wanted to give me the super special, secret recipe to her departed mother's homemade mango ice cream, after we'd had it for dessert that night. (Now, why can't this stupid princess lesson test be about what I'd eaten, at least, the desserts, anyhow, and who had been there, by name? I think I could at least pass with maybe a C+, then.)

If it isn't her, I can't honestly think of anyone else it could be. It makes sense, though, that it _would_ be Min, since this night is all about the two reject lessons I've had thus far, and she and Emin were a part of it.

Sooo . . . yeah.

That's all I got.

In _any_ event, I am beginning to slowly, but surely realize that today, too, will most likely blow. How? Let me count the ways, by making yet another, good old pros and cons list, since it's been a while:

**WILL VANDOM'S OFFICIAL PROS AND CONS LIST OVER HOW TODAY MIGHT BE GOOD OR BAD, OVERALL**

**PRO #1: **It's a glorious Friday, meaning the end of a _very_ stressful, seemed-to-take-years-to-finish week.

**CON #1:** It's a glorious Friday, and yet I won't even be able to enjoy it _or_ relax, thanks to my "royal duties."

**PRO #2:** Even though I will have to go out tonight, which is quite deplorable, I cannot stress enough, I _will_ get to see and spend it with Emin again, who maybe will tell me that I'm hot and other things to help boost my depressingly low self esteem.

**CON #2:** Our first "date" together has to be out in public, with my family, and during what will undoubtedly be a very embarrassing princess lesson test. So now, Emin will get to have a front row seat as I forget which is the butter knife, and how not to accidentally burp at the table or whatever. How attractive.

**PRO #3:** Today is a shorter day, thanks to all the snowfall the previous night, and is also a gym-free day (which, again, is good, besides the Mary-ness, because I am far too lazy and frazzled with my personal issues to deal with the irritation that is circuit training).

**CON #3:** It is only first period right now, and I still have to get through the rest of the day, including suffocating lunchtime and dreaded English class. And my "spidey senses" are so tingling in overtime today, which means that some new embarrassing fiasco is probably going to go down, for sure.

Wait. Wasn't this list supposed to make me feel a bit better about everything? I think it's resulted within a backwards effect, here, because now I feel _worse_.

Ugh.

Please, Lord, let today be a quick, easy day, with nothing being dragged out or deathly awkward (well, no more than usual, anyway) . . . and you know what about and who with.

But, judging how I feel right now, I'm guessing probably not.

_God_, Martin and Alec are _still_ looking at me, after all this time!!

What is this, a scene from that movie, _The Tru Show??_

Go read a _book_ or something, geez. Or, here's another novel idea: WATCH THE DAMNED SCIENCE VIDEO CURRENTLY PLAYING!!

_Oh_, yeah.

Today is going to be fun, I know it.

**-- End of Chapter Forty Five**

**

* * *

(A.N. Woo, fini. :Dances: Isn't much, no, but it's because it's the beginning of fun times for Will later today. Isn't school time fun?? LoL I do promise not to torture her too much as I usually do. It's time for her to be happy again and have Lady Luck on her side. **

**Oh, and yeah, that was a tin reference to The Truman Show, at the end there, but I didn't want to get sued too much there, so I said "Tru" instead. LoL**

**Oh, and that opening quote about woe is, yes, by William Shakespeare. I thought it appropriate for Will, considering all the continual drama she experiences, basically, on a regular basis. **

**Anyway! Please stay tuned for the next update, and please please please, DON'T get lazy on me and NOT leave a review, anymore, either, because oh, this story's so long. It makes me sad. Sniff. . . . LoL Oh, and YES, things are drastically going to shift in the story and for Will, blah blah. Just wait and see!)**


	47. Chapter Forty Six

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Awwww, yeah! Who's the chickie?? I'M the chickie! Uh huh! You know it! HeHe Sorry. Just joyful yooze guys pushed this ficcie o' mine to 400 reviews (finally LoL). Actually, it was specially __**XV-Dragon**__ to be lucky 400, but all of you collectively helped get it there. So, thanks again! Your support, as always, is eternally appreciated._

_Well, it's up to 408 by now, but still. LoL_

_Anyhow, sooooo sorry for the massive delay in updating! But I've been so ever-loving busy lately that I haven't had much time for anything, let alone posting! Wahhh. HeHe_

_But, please to be enjoying this fourteen pager, okay? Yay!_

_

* * *

_

This chapter was created/written in February 2009.

* * *

**Chapter Forty Six**

**Friday, November 10th, Study Hall**

Okay.

So, so far, today hasn't been all that bad.

Well, no, there have been a few patches of nuisances here and there, but since there have been a couple of "pleasant" instances throw into the mix, as well, the jury is still up in the air upon the general scope of this day.

So, to be fair, I will give a rundown of what's been going on within my day so far this morning, since I also haven't anything else to do (which is weird, yet thankful, to think upon, since it was only two days ago I was swamped with playing "catch up" with my homework. Of course, I could and probably _should_ continue working on my projects, but that takes away from the fun of the scrambling to get it all done before the deadline that procrastination brings):

● **(The End of) 1st**** Period, Biology (ABCD Day)**

So, as I'd previously written, Condon had put on that endocrine and nervous system video, while I wrote in here and didn't pay much attention, Martin and Alec watched me like I was a miracle from the Heavens, and hadn't done much of anything else for the rest of that period . . . sadly.

I was just about beginning to wonder if those two would ever speak to me again, seeing as they'd decidedly gone mute ever since my "coming out" as a princess. I was then also beginning to wonder if the bell was ever going to ring and at last free me from this awkward nightmare, when finally, both had miraculously occurred.

So, I'm gathering my belongings in a hurry and dashing out of the classroom, quick as a flash, right? And the next thing I know, I curiously hear what sounded like Martin's voice squeaking out into the atmosphere as he called out after me with blatant nerves permeating within it.

Even though I was admittedly surprised to finally hear him address me after his (regrettable) loved dazed coma for the last few days, I nonetheless silently cursed to myself that I hadn't made it down the nearby staircase in time. I mean, no offense to him or anything, of course, but experiencing yet another, entire period of being the unwanted "apple of (his) eye" (and Alec's, of course, I have to remind myself with great chagrin), is all I can really handle for another day in terms of my daily Martin dosage, now . . . even with this particular period time having been cut in half, and reduced to a mere twenty-one minutes, all in thanks to the two hour delay, of course.

But, seriously.

God only knows what both boys were thinking of while they kept staring at me throughout the entire science film. After all, while they may be a tad (okay, so, _more_ than just "a tad") on the geeky side, they're still teenage, hormone-riddled boys, regardless.

And so couple that with the feelings of puppy love for some usually unsuspecting female, fellow teenager, and . . . ick.

I shudder to think beyond that point.

Anyhow, so even though I don't want to and probably could and should have pretended as though I didn't hear him (given that the hallways were packed again by that moment, with the usual rowdy and sometimes chaotic bustling of fellow students), I stop just at the foot of the stairs I was about to descend and slowly turn around to face a fast approaching and broadly grinning Martin, with a profusely blushing Alec in tow.

". . . . Uh, hey, guys. . . . What's up?" I tried to ask as unbothered as possible, forcing a tight smile upon my face, while unconsciously placing the notebook I had out and within my hands for my next class over my chest in concealing protection.

I'm sorry, but now it's like I can just honestly feel those two . . . _undressing_ me with their eyes and . . . _eww_.

First, I was busy lamenting and regrettably fixated upon images and thoughts of freaking Caleb and Cornelia having . . . _you_ know, together. _Now_, I'm stuck with newfound thoughts of Martin and Alec having the same sort of imagery, only about _me!_

Not to say that I was ever some sex-phobic reject beforehand, no, but those two _supremely_ disturbing thoughts and possible facts of reality is making me want to continue staying a virgin and not think about sex for a very, _very_ long time. . . .

And I said that this day, so far, was shaping out well? _Wow_.

But, as always, I _digress!_

Back to the grinning Martin, and his flustered companion which was Alec.

So I'm standing there, waiting at the top of the stairs with my flimsy, paper-made armor cradled against my chest and body sort of blocking the oncoming and retreating traffic of students, while waiting for the one or both boys to respond.

And after what felt like an eternity of extreme awkwardness on all of our parts, Alec, of all people (I mean, considering he looked as though he wanted to throw up at any moment, being within his obvious crush's presence directly like that, and all), was the first to speak.

". . . . H-He --! I-I mean, _Martin_ h-has something he'd -- _W-We'd_ like to ask you, P-Princess!" he suddenly blurted out, a bit too loudly, I might add, considering I was only less than a foot away from him, as he stammered and stumbled over his blatant nerves.

It was so pathetic, yet charming in a backwards, goofy and parallel universe sort of way, that I couldn't help but smile lightly at the sight. I mean, true, of course I still do find it very disturbing to be someone's obsession like this now. But I've also never had anyone like me so much that they lose complete control of their resolve, just by being within the same vicinity as I.

I am (or _was_, thanks to all of my constant makeovers), after all, a tomboy at heart, and am no flashy, tall and irresistible blue eyed _blonde_, like a certain someone I unfortunately know.

So it's admittedly all so very new . . . and minutely pleasing, even if it's only because I'm a princess, a _celebrity_, and it's a complete _nerd_ who's doing the "worshipping. . . ."

So, yeah.

I suppose the coupling of my smile, along with the surprised gasp and brief glare from Martin at being unappreciatively put on the spot like that by his friend, apparently, was too much for Alec to take, because after managing to give me a lopsided, tense and supremely brief grin of his own, he'd immediately hightailed his tomato-red face out of there and back down the hallway within the other direction.

And then, there were two.

A rather strange and surprising way to arrive at such a point, but two, nonetheless.

"U-Um . . . okay??" was all I could manage to say in between the short, befuddled chuckles I'd let out of my mouth, as I watched Martin watch his good friend hastily retreat and leave him helplessly alone with me . . . well, more or less, anyway, given the still very much crowded hallway, with oodles of passersby waving at me and screaming out things like, "Princess! I _love_ you!", or, "You can talk to _me_, Your Highness! Forget about that _reject!,_" from time to time.

Even though such comments as that last one were pretty mean, I really just wanted to hurry to my next class and hide (sort of, since I'd just have more of the same in there, as with every class now, as always), so I wouldn't have to deal with "all eyes on me," as I'd then begun to focus upon once Martin had turned his attention back onto me and swiftly reminded me of it, thanks to his own intense, albeit blatantly embarrassed stare.

He cleared his throat profusely for a couple seconds, scratching the back of his amber colored head nervously with one hand, while adjusting and then readjusting his crimson framed glasses with the other. And then, finally (because it seriously felt like yet _another_ eternity, by that point), he got to the point.

". . . . I-I, um . . . well, I didn't expect Alec to leave m-me hanging like this, Will -- _O-Oh!_ I-I mean, _Your Highness!_ I'm so sorry! P-Please excuse my rudeness, Princess!" he immediately apologized in mortification at forgetting himself a moment, awkwardly bowing repeatedly before me like a broken wind-up toy, or something.

Yeah. _He_ was mortified? I already have more attention than I can _stand_ now, without even trying; I didn't need any more -- Especially not like this.

So, I swiftly rushed forward and seized both of Martin's arms and pulled him aside and away from the staircase so we wouldn't continue to obscure everyone's path, and then sighed heavily as both our cheeks grew red in abashment.

"T-That's enough of that, now, Martin, thank you," I said as calmly as I could manage, looking about our surroundings briefly to catch a few students snickering at the former display as they passed. Martin merely continued to gaze at me with undeniable devotion and intimidation shining forth within his cyan hued eyes, and let out a peaceful, dreamy sigh, as I then promptly realized that I was still holding onto him.

A bit turned off (okay, so I was _more_ than just "a bit turned off," sue me) by this, I instantly pulled back both of my hands as though the poor, sadly lovesick boy were dangerously diseased, and cleared my throat just as awkwardly as he, himself, had done not but a few minutes before.

"Ugh . . . I-I mean, look, Martin. You and I are friends, you know? Have been for years now, since middle school and when I first moved to Heatherfield. I'd even go as far as to say that you're pretty high up there in the ranking of all the friends I have -- Well, the real, _true_ ones, anyway," I surprisingly heard myself admit to the now taken aback Martin with candid warm-heartedness. "So, with that being said, you shouldn't feel like you have to keep calling me things like 'Your Highness,' or 'Princess,' or any _other_ annoying royal title as that, just because you and the rest of the world unfortunately now all know that I _am_ one -- I'm not really a big fan of it, anyhow. I'd much prefer you and everyone else everywhere just continue to simply call me 'Will . . .' or, in _your_ case, 'Willinator,' like you always enjoyed doing before."

Speechless for a few more moments, Martin then slowly nods at me in seeming understanding, before managing to smile shyly and then suddenly (and finally, I might add) looks away. (Shocking, I know.)

". . . . Smart, funny, down to earth, _immensely_ popular and drop dead _gorgeous_. . . . You've got to be _the_ coolest, most generous and kind princess on the planet, Princess Wilhelmina!" he softly mumbled with timid emotions, before letting out a strangled cry in alarm and instantly looked up at me yet again, as he apparently realized what he'd just admitted aloud. He then began to wave his hands back in forth in front of me as he shook his head adamantly. "Heh, heh, heh! T-That is to say --! Just forget I'd ever said that, Your Highness, b-because I _totally_ and seriously didn't! Heh, heh!"

I felt myself blushing furiously at the bizarre admission of what was basically love for Martin, and rolled my eyes, trying to swiftly block it out.

This was all just becoming way too weird.

And so, wishing to be free of and done with this increasingly ill at ease conversation between us, I merely shook my head and waved my own hand in dismissal, choosing to bypass his unexpected, emotional confession, before stating, "Y-Yeah, Martin . . . it's . . . okay, I guess. Anyway, we'd both better get to class before the bell rings, you know? See you later, and nice talking with you . . . I suppose. Oh, and that's _Will_, not 'Princess Wilhelmina,' remember?"

After that, I gave a quick wave and began to descend the staircase as originally intended, before both Martin and Alec's very much oddball encounter. But just when I thought that I was free of the flustered guy, here he comes, right after me and follows me down the equally busy hallway on the first floor, despite his next period class being back upstairs.

"W-Wait just one second, please, Princess! Just one more minute of your time, if you would!" I could hear Martin shout after me before catching up, clearly choosing to ignore my repeatedly expressed desire to not be referred to by my ever irritating "prestigious" title.

And so, even though I was honestly becoming a bit annoyed by this point, out of my generally good nature towards my friend, I stopped short about halfway to my next classroom and let out a soft sigh before giving a brief nod in compliance.

"Thank you so much! Um. . . ." Martin then awkwardly and suddenly trails off (Go figure, right?) a moment as he stood before me once more, and then lets out a nervous chuckle before continuing. "W-Well, all right. . . . I was just wondering -- That is, both Alec _and_ I, even though he completely bailed on me at the last minute. . . . _A-Anyway! _Right! Heh, heh . . . um, we were hoping, that since you're s-so smart and a-a natural in science, that . . . w-well, if you wouldn't be interested in . . . joining the S-Science Club with m-me?? I-I mean, _us!_ U-Us, of course!"

I just stared blankly at Martin for a couple of seconds after he'd finally gotten to the point of why he'd wanted my attention so badly (well, besides having feelings for me now, that is).

Was he serious?

_Me_, join the Science Club??

I'm not saying it like that because, oh, that club is entirely filled with social outcasts or what have you.

Not at all.

In fact, last I knew, anyway, it was jam packed with _hotties_, who were ripe with . . . _intelligence_, as it were . . . .

Cough. . . .

And besides that, I really do enjoy science, so being a part of a club specifically concentrated in said subject wouldn't be a terrible thing, and had thought about joining once or twice in the past.

At least, it _wouldn't_ have been a bad thing, if I still had my normal life, anyway.

Now that I'm famous, can you just imagine what it would be like? And to be trapped within that classroom the club meets in each week for an _hour and a half_ (and not just the thankful, regular forty-two minutes on normal school days) with both Martin _and_ Alec conducting their newfound favorite pastime of "Loving Observation??"

_Nooo_, thank you; I'll pass.

Besides, it isn't as though I have much free time to myself nowadays, _anyhow_, what with "Evil Eli" making sure that he keeps me endlessly busy with my so called "important" royal obligations, after all. . . .

And so, I'd basically told Martin exactly that . . . more or less, anyway.

"Gee, Martin . . . I'm . . . I'm really flattered and honored by the invitation -- _Really_, I am, but my life has really gotten pretty . . . hectic, now, as you can imagine, I'm sure, so I don't really think I'd have the --" I began in discomforted apology, before he swiftly cut me off.

"-- N-No, Your Highness! I completely understand! It was pretty stupid and lame of me to even ask! I mean, you _are_ a very important person now, with more important things to deal with, like diplomatic proclamations and foreign policies to uphold on your country's behalf and such!" he said hurriedly, looking extremely worried, as though he had offended me dearly and he was just an insignificant commoner now, or something. "I lost my head there for a second! It's just that . . . well, I only thought that, because you enjoy science nearly as much as I do, that maybe you wouldn't want to come to our meetings, especially now that your swimming season is just about over. . . . T-That's actually the problem the club is facing right now -- _Sports_, I mean. We've already lost three members and counting to the newly started Winter sports, so things are becoming a bit tight. . . ."

Even though I'm sure that he wasn't trying to make me feel bad about it, it's exactly how he made me feel, regardless, because the next thing I know, I'm telling Martin, ". . . . I can't promise anything, seriously, here, Martin . . . but I guess, at best, you can make me an honorary member, or something. But it doesn't mean that I can or will be honestly able to show up to any of the meetings, though, all right??"

That seemed to be good enough for him, though, because the next thing I know, Martin's practically squealing as he nodded vigorously in understanding, before clapping his hands together.

"_A-Awesome!_ T-Thank you, Your Highness! And it's so perfect, too, because even if you really can't ever attend any of our meetings, if it gets out that the Princess of Marsily is an actual member -- More or less, anyway -- of the Science Club, then it will definitely bring in much more people!" the intelligent boy happily reasoned with logic I sadly believed all too well to be quite certain, myself, as I listened to him. "Thanks so much, again, Princess! I can't _wait_ to go find Alec and tell him the great news! G'bye for now!"

And before I could say anything in response, off the happy little bugger went, excitedly talking to himself over what had just occurred while bounding back up the staircase, two at a time.

If people hadn't thought Martin may be weird and crazy before (which I sadly know a lot do, yes), they probably do _now_ after that little display.

Who would have thought that a simple kinda "yes" would brighten someone's day so much??

Although, I suppose that if it had been _me_, and received a "yes" from a certain someone that they had truly liked me, then I'd have probably acted the same way. . . .

Of course, things are different now, and that's all in the past . . . where it belongs, I guess.

_Anyhow_. . . .

Even though it would involve apparently misusing my unfortunate celebrity status as a way to garner more members into the club, at least it would still mean helping out a friend in need . . . even if that particular friend is most likely extremely close to becoming borderline obsessed within his affections for me, and thus I can probably never be around him for long (or _ever_, at this rate). . . .

Bleh.

● **2nd**** Period, Public Speaking (ABCD Day)**

Now, _this_ period, even though I quite normally (within the general scope of things, that is) dread it immensely, was actually kind of . . . _fun_.

I know: Extra shocking.

No, really.

Of course, it also helped that, again, the period was drastically shortened due to the two hour delay, and also because I suppose I kinda sort of made a new friend in Ryan.

Remember her? That "takes zero crap from everyone and marches to the beat of her own drum" chickie I'd mentioned a few times now, and also had previously offered to give me a few pointers for my speech?

Yeah, that's the one.

Talking to her again was, just like the last time, quite invigorating, to say the least.

Maybe it's because I'm still a "stupid teenager, who worries constantly about everything and what her peers think of her" (especially now that it's public knowledge that I'm royal, to boot), but having been around Ryan and sharing the conversation with her that I had during class time just sort of made me feel . . . I don't know.

Both inspired _and_ jealous, that she seems to be so "together" and confident within her own skin at such a young age, already, and that _I_ cannot be the same way.

Well, I'm sure that I _can_ be (twenty-four-seven, that is, and not just while on Guardian duty, as I've expressed a few times before in past entries) and am honestly trying (sort of). But it is pretty difficult to accomplish when your academic, social, and familial life plates are as chaotically full as mine habitually is shaping out to be, pretty much on a daily basis, now.

But, hey.

At least I'm open to change and am receptive to the possibility, you know? And hanging out with Ryan (well, more like working on our ten minute speech projects together, rather) during class is more or less a start.

Not to mention that she'd managed to actually slightly (that being the operative word, here, since it'll take more than just a few traded words, no matter how "pleasant") shatter through my unfortunately unavoidable defeated mood and general outlook, as well.

And all we talked about was our speeches . . . well, that, and my princess status.

I know: "How would _that_ make you feel better?"

Seriously.

But, no, really.

See, when I got into class after the bell rang and settled into my usual seat, Mrs. Flannigan did her usual thing of opening up the floor to anyone who might have wanted to give another, two minute impromptu speech about anything before she began teaching.

This time, the topic was more or less about all the snow we'd gotten nailed with yesterday, and what we did during our day off because of it.

So, as usual, I immediately sank lower into my seat while waiting for someone to raise their hand and start things off, at the same time I tried to ignore the (sadly) increasingly "normal" stares "secret or otherwise from my fellow classmates all around me.

I tell you.

It's getting to be a swift drag coming to school, having to constantly deal with stuff like this on a daily basis now. Well, not like coming to school was ever really fun to begin with, but at least, as I've said before, back then I was more or less vapor to the overall masses, and quite comfortable with that, I suppose.

Maybe I can strike some sort of deal with Principal Brooks that states that anyone who looks at me for more than a minute and up shall receive an automatic suspension.

Pretty drastic, I know, but being a princess _has_ to have its perks at _some_ point, right?

Anyway! Rambling, now.

So, after a couple students got up there and did their thing (and bored me to pieces, quite honestly), Mrs. F then let us take the rest of the short period to work on our ten minute speeches, before she just sat at her desk, alternating between reading the novel she'd brought with her, talking animatedly to various students near the front of the room, or cracking jokes about numerous things to the whole of us (which were admittedly pretty funny, I gotta say. Like I said before, for a teacher, and besides Ms. Wojick, Mrs. Flannigan's pretty cool. Even with the harsh strike of choosing to teach public speaking continually against her).

And then, that's when Ryan, even though already close enough to me, suddenly gets up from her seat and plops down into an empty one on my left (which wasn't really hard to do. Find a vacant seat, I mean, considering that that so far, my classes have been partially empty, thanks to the massive snowfall).

But I honestly hadn't seen her do so, as I had my head buried within . . . well, you, actually, journal. I was actually just about to start writing this particular entry right then and for the rest of the remaining period, instead of working on my speech.

I mean, really. Could you blame me? Writing speeches, especially important ones dependent upon a good grade, require inspiration -- Of the _fabulous_ kind, especially.

And that, quite blatantly, is something I do not and haven't had in a while, sorry.

Well, I mean, Ryan _did_ end up cheering me up a bit as I'd said, but it doesn't mean that I now have my entire speech down pat.

And I'm beginning to wonder if I'm ever going to.

Anyway, Ryan sits down next to me, and needless to say scared the crap out of me once I realized she was there, and then spoke.

"So, hey: How come you didn't volunteer up _your_ pretty little dolled up self's tale, of how you'd most likely spent your snow day lying about your newfound palace, being served peeled grapes by half naked men, Princess??" she joked with a smirk and slight exhale of comfort, as she settled into her newly chosen seat with her belongings laid before her on the desk. "I'm ever so certain that the Little People would have oh so enjoyed a ray of sunshine within each of their otherwise mundane lives, being granted a peek into the life of such a new _big shot_ as you, after all."

I felt myself immediately frown at this, and sighed heavily in both annoyance and offense while I swiftly closed this journal and plunked it back into my still open shoulder bag.

"So, is _that_ what you now think of me? That because I'm now a princess, I'm just brainless and self absorbed??" I asked with an unappreciated glare at the still smiling girl (which said observation only served to further agitate me all the more), feeling myself slowly straightening my posture in confrontation.

Well, okay. So I honestly _was_ pretty self absorbed lately, but with good reason (in _my_ opinion, anyway). But at least I still wasn't "brainless" . . . even if it sometimes felt that way, or stupid Eli seems to prefer believing in order to further assume control over my life.

Either way, Ryan didn't seem daunted, because she just chuckled (which made me be merely seconds away, at that point, from punching her out), before responding with, "Thought never crossed my mind, Queenie. In the _regular_ world, such statements as the one I'd previously delivered are usually referred to as _jokes_. Guess people tend to apparently lose their senses of humor once they make it to the big time, huh? Or, _Hell_, maybe ya never _had_ one, since I don't know you and all. Just thought I'd try and lighten the mood, since you're always walking around this joint now, looking as though you've been newly put on _Death Row_ -- But _my_ mistake; I'll leave you alone, then."

And next I know, she's beginning to pick up her books again to leave, which made me instantly feel bad for my previous presumptions (even if they _were_ slightly valid, since everyone else outside friends and family -- Sort of, anyway -- have been giving me nothing but grief about my new life).

So, I quickly reached a pleading hand out to her, as I let out a sharp sigh and began to sheepishly apologize.

"W-Wait, all right? I'm . . . I'm sorry, honestly. . . . Things just haven't exactly been very easy for me now -- You know, adjusting to everything and all," I began timidly, cheeks flushed as I then continued to more or less pour my heart out to a virtual stranger. "I've got people all around who either love me or hate me now, just for my royal title, and upon either spectrum, it's just all been pretty overwhelming for me. . . . I guess I just sort of have my guard forever up for it, now, it seems, so . . . sorry, again."

I thought that Ryan was just gonna tell me to shove it where the sun don't shine, based upon the momentarily disgusted look she had upon her face as she looked back at me. But after a few seconds of letting what I'd revealed to her sink in, she finally relaxed and gave a small nod and shrug in understanding.

". . . . Yeah, I kinda figured. I mean, look at all those stories in the news of formerly normal people who win the lottery; the next thing you know, they're completely _insane_, famous, and blowing their probably undeserved cash on fruitless material crap. It all seems pretty overrated to me, personally, being a celebrity; yet all these _rejects_ here and in the media seem to enjoy lapping it all up," she replied with a shrug after settling her belongings back onto the desk.

She then reached up to lightly scratch her still-unnaturally-pink-as-always colored hair, just as some dude I don't know abruptly turned around in his seat in front of her and glared.

"_Hey_, I'll have you know that my _father_ happens to be lead anchorman for Channel 7 News, and gives the _best_ reports for the latest updates on Miss _Princess_ over there! So watch who you're calling 'reject,' especially when someone like _you_ is one to talk!" the blonde haired, Letterman jacket wearing and bulky looking (and, no doubt about it) jock barked at a very unimpressed looking Ryan, who looked as though she were in the middle of having listened to an extremely boring history lesson, or something.

Meanwhile, I could feel my face growing even _redder_ than before, as I slowly sunk deep into my seat once more. Sure, I was upset that this no-name jerk was calling me out when I didn't even do or say anything. And it isn't like it's my fault that his father, the oh so special and prestigious anchorman for Channel 7 News has to give any and all of the latest reports about yours truly.

If I had _my_ way, I'd make sure that my name and what I do be banned from every radio, television, newspaper or online article worldwide.

But given that I could then feel more eyes of the nearby students around us beginning to promptly land squarely upon me yet again (after a tiny reprieve, courtesy of being instructed to work upon our speeches by Mrs. F.), I didn't dare say a word within my own defense, lest I make it worse or something.

I didn't have to worry about that, anyway, since Ryan, quick as a flash, was already pouncing upon the (in my opinion) now poor boy.

She's all, "Hey, sweetie, do me a fave? Turn your face back around before I _punch_ it. And quit eavesdropping upon a conversation which is _far_ too complex for _your_ pea sized little brain to fully grasp, eh? Ain't _my_ fault the rest of you choose to be mindless _sheep_ to the masses which are the ever evolving _wolves_, while you continually gobble up every piece of trash they print out there," before curiously leaning forward over the now outraged and blushing dude's shoulder. "And your old man's a journalist, huh? Then I wonder if he knows that his own son can't even spell the word 'embarrassing,' correctly: This just in! 'Super star jock sucks at everything else which _doesn't_ involve ramming someone's throat in while on the field!' What a _shocker!_ Now, go _suck_ it, will you, 'cause I'm kinda in the middle of a special audience with the Princess, all right?"

Even though I was honestly surprised by what had just happened (although nowhere near as shocked as that guy then looked, who's probably never been spoken to in that way by anyone before, I'm sure), I couldn't help but softly laugh underneath my breath as I watched the former offender-now-turned-defeated-victim of sorts let out a sharp gasp and clicked his tongue, before turning back around in his seat.

It was even more humorous, as I watched him then hover over his open notebook where he'd apparently been writing out his ten minute speech, and began to vigorously erase away at it with his pencil in presumed attempts to eradicate Ryan's view of his spelling mistake.

After which, I slowly tore my slightly widened eyes away from the guy to then gaze upon Ryan, who had replaced her dismayed facial expression back onto her pale face while continuing to stare at the back of his head. This face, though, was actually more like a "What the _eff??_ Was this dude freaking _serious??"_ type of look, which made me chuckle a bit harder to have witnessed as a result.

I, myself, would need the use of all ten fingers and toes in order to count off precisely how many times _I've_ made the same exact face in the near and distant past throughout my life, it's not even funny.

Or, well, maybe it _was_, in this case, anyway, since I was for once a mere spectator rather than perpetrator.

Anyway, I was still laughing under my breath a bit, when Ryan turns her attention back onto me and immediately smiles, a bit triumphantly at that.

". . . . Sorry about that, Your Highness. I swear, some people can be so _rude_," she said with animated sarcasm, knowing full well that she had just finished being quite discourteous, herself, but obviously not caring within the slightest. "So, what were we talking about, before being interrupted by 'Desperately Needs a Tutor' over there?"

I gave another small giggle at this (even though I could then hear the nameless blonde mutter an embittered "Bitch" to himself while he kept erasing at his page), before replying.

"Well, geez. . . . It must be nice to be able to be that cynical and carefree with what you say like that and have an 'I don't care' attitude, huh?" I asked with a small smile in return towards Ryan, whose turn it was to let out a slight laugh just then.

She shrugged once more and smirked, before reaching to pick up her temporarily forgotten pen from off of her desk.

"Hey, what can I say: At least I'm never in short supply, I guess," Ryan said with a proud grin, before lightly wagging her pen at me. "And, hey, I never said I don't care. I can and do, but for things which are worth my time -- Which, as you can imagine, being in _this_ inbred school, doesn't happen often. Besides, _you_ can't really understand -- You know, being so sugary sweet, it seems like."

I felt myself blushing yet again just then, knowing there was some truth in her words, albeit a tad condescending.

". . . . Well, I _guess_ I'll admit that I'm not exactly always forthcoming with my all my emotions, no . . . but it doesn't mean that I'm a pushover, either -- Especially with the short temper that I can have at times, too," I hastily revealed with another tiny smile, curiously finding it easier and easier to be so open and honest with Ryan, even though we barely know each other.

I suppose that maybe she just has that effect on people. Well, she honestly seems to have both a good _and_ bad effect on people, really, but either spectrum seems to work just fine for her.

Plus, the more I'd spoken with her, the less crappy I began to feel, which is always good.

Rare, nowadays, but still good.

Anyway, Ryan scoffed gently and smirked at this, before stretching.

"Yeah, well, if ever you may need a tutor for _that_, just let me know, Princess. However, until then, and _speaking_ of tutoring, how's your ten-minute speech coming along . . . if at all? The offer for personal insight still stands, ya know -- That is, if your Royal Schedule can generously accommodate such an occurrence, of course."

Sigh.

I guess another thing I'll have to get used to about being a princess are the constant jokes at my expense at how "important" and "busy" I presumably now am.

Well, no. Not really presumably, sadly, since a lot of people out there seem to believe I am so special and all. I, of course, disagree -- About that notion, anyhow, since I can concur, just as sadly, that I _am_ now too busy with princess related crap that I can barely breathe.

But I digress, for the billionth time.

Either way? Enough with the royal jests here, seriously!

But, anyhow. Back to Ryan, and the topic of my dreaded, "definitely-wish-I-could-just-pay-off-Mrs. F-in-order-to-get-out-of-doing-it" speech.

I'd already had a feeling, of course, that she was going to ask about it, since, as she'd just mentioned, she had indeed offered to give a few pointers to no longer suck as much (if that's even remotely possible).

So, I told her that, no, not only is my speech writing progress _not_ "going," but I haven't even thought of a topic yet.

She just laughed . . . _again_.

I'm glad she found it so amusing that I will most likely get a big, fat and juicy _F_ in this class because of it, while she'll be sitting pretty with her (quite honestly deserved) A, in contrast.

But, then, something honestly near miraculous happened after that:

Ryan actually gave me a pretty genuinely sincere and sympathetic smile, before speaking again.

I know. It scared me, too.

But, no, really. Even though I, again, know next to nothing about this girl, there _has_ to be more to her than just massive cynicism and negativity, after all, right?

And that smile kind of more or less proved it.

Besides, being all "I hate the world" nowadays is _my_ gig.

Anyway, so after bestowing such an unexpected gesture onto me, Ryan lightly shook her brightly pink colored head and goes, "You _do_ realize that having poor communication skills -- And poor _marks_ for it, at that -- probably won't bode well for your newfound people of Marsily, yeah?? The deadline's only a few weeks away, you know, and you especially can use all of the time that Mrs. F's given to us all, definitely. Well, not as badly as the _rest_ of these buffoons in this class, but you _do_ kinda suck, sorry."

Wow.

Talk about slightly bipolar, ladies and gentlemen.

Didn't she just give me a kind of-sort of "everything's gonna be okay" smile like, three seconds ago? And now, she's already back to being a bit Cornelia-ish, with a splash of Irma-centric sarcasm, when I think of it.

This really _is_ not my day, I'm telling you -- My _millennium_, really.

I guess my muddled surprise and instant offense was drastically splayed across my face right then, because Ryan suddenly raises both of her hands into the air as though in submissive defeat before saying, "Whoa, relax there! Boy, is our acquaintanceship blasting off to a 'good' start, or what? I'm already learning so much about you, like the apparent fact that you really can't take a joke. Well, it was a _partial_ joke, anyway, since we both know you basically _rot_ when it comes to public speaking. But! Again, I say, that's what my contrasting _brilliance_ is for! So! First things first: Have you at least a topic to focus on for this speech yet??"

And then, the next thing I know, after begrudgingly admitting to the sometimes undesired outspoken girl that I indeed did not even possess a set topic, Ryan gets into "Serious Business Mode," and in no less than fifteen minutes her (very) helpful tips and guidelines enabled me to not only decide upon a topic, but create a rough draft outline, as well.

Go, me! Er, _Ryan_, I guess (who can really be concentrated and studious when she wants to be, apparently)!

Well, _both_ of us, really, damn it!

In any event, woo hoo!

Now I'm at least kind of halfway there in maybe not failing . . . well, miserably, at least.

I know, I know.

You're probably now wondering what my subject focus is, right?

Well, I'd have thought that'd be obvious (even though it did take me a bit longer than anticipated to realize, or _re_-realize it, myself, admittedly).

Mrs. Flannigan said that we could either talk about the greatest or worst thing to have ever happened to us, yeah?

And so, here is the (not so official, as of yet) title to my particular, upcoming speech:

_Will Vandom's Ten Minute Speech Concerning the Eons Worth of Mortification Newly Having Become a Princess Has Thus Far Awarded Her (a.k.a. The Worst Thing That Has Ever Happened to Her was Suddenly Inheriting a Dearly Unwanted Crown to a Country She Doesn't Even at the Very Least Know of in Pictures)._

What do you think?

Kind of wordy, true, but there's still time to change that. Personally, though, I think it already speaks volumes, and articulates my ongoing distress quite well.

But at least now, thanks to Ryan and all of her insightful tips, I have a better idea and, moreover, focus upon what I'm doing, so now the writing should come a bit more easily than before.

So then, after class had ended just several minutes after everything had gotten squared away in terms of settling upon a definite subject and such, I was feeling so jazzed about it (Yes, I totally just said "jazzed." I know it's kinda more or less an "oldies" sort of expression, but I like it. Maybe as Princess I can start a revival trend . . . _not_) that I extended my thanks to Ryan by unexpectedly inviting her over for dinner sometime.

I say unexpected, not because of the particular individual I was asking.

No, it was because obviously, bringing her over to the loft is still completely out of the question, it sadly seems (and boy, do I miss my home and bedroom, where all of my cute little frog plushies are always waiting for me with open arms . . . well, once I open them, myself, that is).

So, then now, if she said yes, I'd have to bring her over to the freaking _Plaza_ . . . where _Eli_ would be waiting (as always).

Can you just imagine what someone like Ryan, with her charismatic personality would say (or worse, _do_) in front of someone like Eli, who's just as "out there" as she apparently is??

I don't even want the _girls_ coming over there so long as he's around, let _alone_ someone I'm only just getting to know.

I regrettably realized all of this a bit too late, because both surprisingly as well as a bit deplorably (for the reasons aforementioned, of course), Ryan actually accepted.

Yeah. _Seriously_.

"Hmm . . . an official royal dinner gathering with Marsily's future and fourth officially known Princess -- Well, excluding her long abdicated mother, of course -- its current King, and with _me_ as the honored guest, no doubt?? How could I possibly dream of passing up a once in a lifetime opportunity as this? Count me in, Your Highness -- The pleasure will be all _yours_ . . . _and_ your wise and fair uncle, I'm sure."

Then after that very cryptic, foreshadowing message sign off of sorts, Ryan quickly jotted down her e-mail address and took mine before parting ways, so that I could contact her on the side if I still needed more help on my speech, and then to also let her know which day and time to "come over for some chow," as she put it.

And that was that.

Well, for now, at least.

I'm now beginning to think that, if I could have, anyway, I should definitely do my speech on _Ryan_, and how utterly bizarre and "not of this world" she really pretty much is.

In _my_ opinion, anyhow (and a lot of other people, I'm sure).

But honestly, though, that period was actually pretty . . . "fun" as I'd said, albeit interesting in the "_Oookay??"_ kind of way.

And that's the first time I could actually say that about my Public Speaking class, too.

So, thanks again, Ryan, for helping me "de-addle" my brain, as it were, from all of my recent affairs long enough to finally have an outline for my stupid ten minute speech, and for making me feel not as tragic-oriented as I've continually been feeling lately, for the most part.

Well, if only for less than twenty-one minutes, at least.

Still a pretty impressive feat, no less.

So, kudos.

_Now_, if only --

Oh, shoot. Bathroom break, journal, sorry.

Well, hey. When you gotta go, you gotta go, right (even though flippin' Nova will be coming with, as always)?

But when I get back, I'll finish where I left off, which is getting to what happened during just-as-stupid-as-my-Public-Speaking-class World History.

Won't _that_ be fun, as well??

Bet you're relieved I'm taking a break then, after all.

And on that note, I'll be right back.

**-- End of Chapter Forty-Six**

**

* * *

  
**

**(A.N. Wooooo. Don't you hate it when you write chapters which, even though you do know exactly what you wish to write and how it will all go down/pan out, it still gives you trouble during the execution process?? Eeeeyep. That would be the case with this little "gem." I wanted to shoot it out of a cannon, I swear. LoL But, hey. It's done, and I'm done and yeah. Well, it's been done, I just never bothered to edit it all this time, mainly because I've been super busy. Sorry! **

**Anyhow, there's much more to come, in terms of excitement and wee-ness! LoL Specifically, in chapter forty-eight. I think. LoL And then, of course, is Will's dreaded dinner test thingie later on in the day, as well. So it's just gonna keep getting more and more interesting. Squee. LoL**

**Oh, and I didn't really mention them, no, but obviously, Ernest and Nova were shadowing Will, as always in each class. I just was lazy and didn't write it this time. LoL I will in the next chapter though, promise, since a lot of you actually like her bodyguards. LoL**

**Stay tuned, sorry again for the massive delay in updates – for anything, really LoL – please review, and thanks for the continued support! Very much obliged!)**


	48. Chapter Forty Seven

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note:_ Isn't it crazy how I'd started this story very nearly three years ago, and on Halloween (although hadn't posted it until a few days later), and it will be Halloween again, by tomorrow?? Crazy, crazy. LoL Can't believe you've all been in love with this fic for that long – Thankies!!_

_So, please, enjoy this more interesting (I think, anyway LoL) chapter!_

_

* * *

_

This chapter was created/written in September 2009.

* * *

**Chapter Forty Seven**

**Friday, November 10th, Study Hall**

Okay, back again, with an empty bladder once more.

Yay.

But it still honestly sucked (as always, now) to have to go with flippin' _Nova_ in attendance. . . .

It's just way too creepy, and _definitely_ too close for comfort to have her right outside my stall every time I use the lavatories like that.

It's a wonder I haven't had to go do . . . _you_ know, yet, ever since becoming a princess and having bodyguards with me at school, because otherwise, I'd definitely be massively _constipated_.

Why??

There is _no_ way I would or will ever go while she's out there, alleged "extensive underwater training," or not.

And, _speaking_ of Nova and all that, even though it's been a few days now, since the whole overdosing on hotdogs incident, they still look pretty ill to me.

Yet, both she and Ernest are still here, on duty and all that.

It honestly makes me feel a little bad now, versus my initial feelings of relief that they hadn't seemed to figure it all out (you know, about mine and the girls' grand adventure into Metamoor the other night), and even humor at their expense.

But, even _I_ have to draw the line somewhere and feel sympathetic, even _if_ it's for two people who kinda annoy me.

Well, more than just "kinda," but you get me.

Doesn't the kingdom of Marsily give _holidays_ to their guarding personnel??

Unless, Eli hasn't even realized, nor noticed (which, since it's him, it's quite honestly possible) Ernest and Nova's apparently ongoing malady as a possible reason for why they haven't yet been temporarily relieved of their duties?

Then again, he probably _has_ noticed that they're sick, but because _I'm_ under their watch, he's decided that he "simply cannot take any chances," or something.

Either way, I just hope that neither one of them ends up suddenly _barfing_ around or, worse, _on_ me, in the coming however many days it will take for them to make a full recovery.

The kinda plus side, though? They haven't really been _as_ major headaches to have around in the meanwhile.

Maybe there's something to this "making your frequently irritating bodyguards ill" thing (even if it _had_ been an accident), after all.

Hmm. . . .

Anyway! So, continuing on in the rundown of this particular school day thus far.

Where did I leave off, again?

Ah, yes.

Typically stupid, typically _boring_ World History.

But . . . actually? It, too, much like Public Speaking had surprisingly been, wasn't really that bad this time.

Again, it could, this newfound (although definitely temporary, I'm quite certain) acceptance for two of the top classes I detest most just mainly be due to the two hour delay chopping each one in half.

Less time to suffer.

Still.

Even though that class time had, once again, been dedicated to learning more about "my" country of Marsily (very much to my chagrin, of course) , what Lenser had taught to us this time around had actually been pretty . . . _insightful_, I will say.

● **3rd**** Period, World History (ABCD Day)**

Okay, so first off, as soon I got into the classroom and sat down, I see that Mr. Lenser's hurriedly going around the room, within his usual fast paced walk, already giving back those essays we'd just handed in to him a few days ago, and had it counted as a test.

So, this instantly put me in a bad mood all over again, erasing the kinda good feeling I'd gotten from having spoken to Ryan the previous period.

Why?

Because I knew I hadn't really done as thorough a job on that essay as I could have done, and had honestly tried to do.

So, I knew whatever grade Lenser had given me, it wasn't going to be a good one.

But, give me a break! I've already stated over and over (well, maybe not to him, of course -- Not that he'd care or listen, anyway) that I generally _blow_ at history!

At least I tried, though, you know?

But, actually?

Turns out, I surprisingly got a _C+_ on it.

Not that that's something to be super proud of, of course.

But, considering I personally felt as though I'd done a half-ass job on some parts of it, in terms of citing more information as the essay question had called for and amounting to only three paragraphs, total, including the introduction, I thought I was most assuredly screwed.

Definitely D worthy, in my honest opinion.

So, getting this C, with a _plus_ tacked on (which essentially translates into a B-, I will view it as instead, in order to make myself feel a little bit better about it), was quite the shock.

I _would_ say that it's because of my "higher station" as the reason Mr. Lenser awarded me such a generous (in this essay's dismal case, anyway) grade; only he very rarely gives out anything higher than a B-, anyway.

Well, except maybe secret A+'s or something to his precious doppelganger, the little know-it-all, _Ian_, perhaps.

Either way, all in all, my grade was about on point and the average grade the man gives out, and what I generally receive in his class so far, anyhow.

It's still going to suck to most likely see the even bigger, _fatter_, and far more daunting "C" or "C-" on my midterm progress report come Thanksgiving, though.

_Ugh_.

Depressed, again, now, just thinking about it.

I have _got_ to do well on my stupid project for this class, or I am royally (no pun, intended) screwed, for sure.

Note to self: Stop spending so much time lamenting upon my newfound, disastrous life, would-be _love_ life, and writing in this journal all _about_ it, and spend much, _much_ more time on my academic studies.

Ha.

_Right_.

Anywhodle, onto the actual interesting part of this class.

Apparently, I mean, according to Lenser's lesson, anyway, Marsily was within a brief civil war during Countess -- Er, _Queen_ Hosanna's reign.

Yeah, yeah, I know: "What's so interesting about _that??"_

I thought so, too, and yawned in perfect time to it, as well, when I'd first started listening to Lenser talk about it.

But, apparently, it had been over the better treatment and rights of women.

See, Hosanna truly and firmly believed that it was _not_ "a direct violation against God, should any sort of refusal be made by a woman to a man."

You know, like if the guy would be all, "go get me a sandwich, _wench_, and make it snappy!", or wished to prevent his chick from going someplace. If she'd actually said _no_, then fire and brimstone wouldn't suddenly rain down from the Heavens and onto the unsuspecting people of the kingdom.

No.

Hosanna had argued that (and, in my opinion, very smartly, as well as justifiably so) if all of that particular way of thinking had been valid and women were so inferior, then how was _she_ so capable of being a competent ruler, at such a young age, and _especially_ after all of the grand improvements she had constructed ever since the House of Fandul had ended?

Apparently, her words had struck an awesome chord with Parliament or whomever (especially since there was absolutely no _way_ any of them could have disagreed, not unless they'd wish to look like giant, retarded _hypocrites_), because after which, it turned out that Queen Hosanna's kingdom had become one of the few dominions of the time to lobby and then successfully establish better rights for women, which had managed to hold true for many years well after her eventual death, to boot.

She'd even managed to create a university where everyone could enroll and partake within its learning, regardless of gender, or social station. So, that meant that some peasant girl or whatever could have gone into one of the lectures or whatever, and sat right next to a male prince from some other kingdom, and not get _flogged_ or something for it.

I gotta say, in all brutal honesty, here, that I'm becoming more and more impressed with my ancestor, Hosanna. I mean, considering the time period she unfortunately had lived within, she's seemed to have accomplished quite a lot.

"A real pioneer," as Lenser had put it during his lecture.

And I actually _agree_ with him, for once.

Seriously: Was there anything that girl _couldn't_ do??

To think, that it's quite possible that, all of the active, brave steps Hosanna had taken to make things -- The world, really, I guess, a better place for everyone, most likely had very well influenced and inspired the countless others who had achieved the very same feats throughout later history.

And _I_ actually more or less have the same blood as hers running through my veins, too.

Life's really crazy like that, sometimes, I guess. . . .

But, now, though, I'm thinking that maybe this unit all about Marsily might not be as dreaded as I'd originally surmised.

Well, so long as Lenser continues to discuss further topics related to Queen Hosanna's "adventures" or what have you, anyway.

Sooo . . . yeah.

Now, I'm _finally_ caught up on what's been happening so far today with, to, and for me.

Oh. No, no.

Wait. Almost forgot.

I got to bump into Eddie again, on my way here to study hall and after history class had ended. We didn't get to actually speak, though, mainly because he seemed to be in a rush.

But, he still had enough time to stop momentarily to give me a quick, and very surprising hug, while he goes, "Hang in there, kiddo!" He then released me with a small smile, before reminding me that the invite to visit his mansion at any time still stands.

And then, he sprinted off in the opposite direction as me, while his own two body-dudes, Celso and Guerino rushed after him, as always.

I'm sorry, but I will _never_ for the life of me understand why Irma continues to keep this guy at bay!

Eddie's smart (I mean, I guess, since I've never had classes with him, before), friendly, presumably honest, _definitely_ handsome, and outgoing.

And, I'll point out for _only_ the gajillionth time, is hopelessly _gaga_ over the Water Guardian!!

Practically the entire _school_ (well, those who run within similar circles as Eddie, or perhaps merely those who keep up to date with the gossip, anyway) knows this, with most of the female populace cursing the brunette's existence repeatedly for it, at that.

And if it's frustrating to _me_ that those two _still_ haven't hooked up yet, then I _know_ it's gotta be just as hair-pulling for _Eddie_, for sure.

I have _got_ to seriously have a talk with Irma, and finally get the (_real_) facts upon this matter, before me and the other girls _lose_ it. . . .

Hmm . . . hey, you know what? Suddenly, I've just gotten hit with this overwhelming feeling that everything's going to be all right.

I _know!_

_Super_ weird, and so out of the blue.

Seriously.

But, it's true.

I can't really explain it, though . . . just that, things may just start to finally look up for me in my massively chaotic life, you know?

Well, whatever the reason for this abrupt sensation, I certainly hope it holds true, because I cannot --

. . . . Oh.

My.

_Crap_.

I just looked up from my writing for a brief instant, okay, and guess whom I see is slowly but surely heading right this way????

CALEB!!!!

**-- End of Chapter Forty-Seven**

**

* * *

**

**(A.N. UH oh. Why's Caleb going to presumably see Will for outta no where?? Why'd I have to be so mean and end it right there?? LoL In terms of story-universe, because Will's currently stunned, freaked out and rapidly shut her journal before Caleb could by chance catch a glimpse of what she may have been writing. For the real life-universe, it's MAINLY so's I can keep all the juiciness and fun I have planned for their interaction in the next chapter to all BE in that one chapter, rather than some in this, etc. Well, it might be juicy, anyway. LoL ANYWAY! After the next chapter, with its renewed feature of Will/Caleb interaction you all love so very much LoL, the shift should turn onto Will's dreaded din din with Eli later that day. Well, you know, after I finish up the last few periods of her school day, that is. LoL Soooo, I'm thinking most likely by chapter 50 the latest should be when the dinner's featured…which should be a treat, for what I have planned. Yay! Wow…soon to be 50 chapters to this ficcie. CRAAAAZZZYYY…. LoL Anyhow! Hope you enjoyed, and please stay tuned and review, my lovelies!)**


	49. Chapter Forty Eight

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Wooo hoo!! Two updates in one day (kinda one day, anyway)! :Dances: AND this one's supremely longer than the previous chapter, too! ANNND Will/Caleb focused, to boot!_

_So, enjoy this lil' treat, my dears, which I guess can be constituted as some sort of Halloween treat, in turn. LoL_

_

* * *

_

This chapter was created/written in October 2009.

* * *

**Chapter Forty Eight**

**Friday, November 10th, English**

_Weirdest_.

Yep.

Absolutely one of, if not _the_ weirdest school periods I've _ever_ experienced at this particular school . . . or _ever_, really.

I mean, what do you _say_ to what had transpired back in fourth period, during the rest of study hall??

What are the _words_ to describe such an occurrence??

Oh, right.

"_Weirdest_."

And I've now _more_ than enough words to find and say to describe it, as well, now that I've had a period in between to recover from its awkwardness.

. . . . Still _weird_, though.

Okay, okay! I'll stop not making any sense (which I'm getting to be really good at in here, fair journal).

Well, the previous entry I had closed it off by writing how I saw Caleb, of all possible people, was heading over to my table, right?

Yeah, well, he really _was_, which is why I had to stop the entry there.

What do you expect?? I don't let _anyone_, not even one of the girls see, let alone _know_ that this journal exists. You really think I'd let my ex-"Means More Than the World to Me" catch even a _glimpse??_

_Nooo_, no no.

Which is why I got so flustered, and ended up scrambling to quickly shove it into the dark recesses of my shoulder bag . . . which, in turn, caused the majority of my scattered papers and notebooks I'd taken out upon arriving into the cafeteria onto the floor.

Score one for _me_ in looking suave, cool and collected, there.

I mean, just because I'm doing my best to shut Caleb out of my heart now, it doesn't mean that I want to continue looking like a complete _loon_ in front of him, either.

Not to mention that my multiple "_fans,_" who had been present at the time (and when are they _not??_)_,_ most likely saw it all from where they were each seated at their own tables, thus adding to the furthered embarrassment.

I really _should_ seriously look into that being homeschooled idea, for sure. . . .

Sigh.

Anyhow, so now, I'm busy trying to pick up all of my crap, while Caleb continues on his merry way over to me for God only _knows_ why, and while Nova and Ernest just _stand_ there, at their usual, decided "posts" near one of the cafeteria doors closest to me.

I mean, I know that I usually want them to be as _far_ away from me as possible, and to interfere or intervene so little that it's almost like they're not even _there_ with me. But, just a _tiny_ bit of assistance in scooping up my disheveled belongings, before my former "love" got too close _would_ have been _nice!_

They always tend to freak out at times, if someone near me just _sneezes_, after all.

But, I guess their presumably continued tummy aches I had written about within the previous entry must have distracted them too much.

Especially since they also just let Caleb approach me freely, talk to _and_ sit with me at the table as he later did, no trouble.

_Figures_.

So, okay.

I'm still on the floor, picking up my things, I will say yet again, and just managed to finish doing so (well, disregarding a few crumpled up pieces of paper that were near me, seeing as I'd figured that they'd probably been left behind by people from the previous periods), just as Caleb had bent over and picked up two of my sheets and a notebook from behind me.

So, _correction_, then: I had _thought_ that I had just managed to finish doing so (picking up everything which had belonged to me).

And even though it was just sheets of my stupid math homework, in addition to my Public Speaking notebook (which just _had_ to "conveniently" been opened to my latest page, regarding my outline and beginnings to the rough draft of my ten minute speech), I was still mortified.

_I_ don't know.

Something about someone you're trying to get over knowing or having any sort of insight into your mind (or, lack thereof in the case of my math homework, anyway, which made it all the more deplorable) just doesn't do.

Probably because it'd spell further emotional _disaster_ if it turned out that they thought you were immensely _stupid_.

And I, at this point in the game (a.k.a. My _life_), both I _and_ my fragile psyche just do _not_ need that right now.

So, here I am, forcing myself to remain calm, while ever so slowly sliding back onto my seat with my junk back onto the table and looking like a renewed pile of perhaps an even _greater_ mess, and refusing to look Caleb in the eye.

As though I ever honestly could beforehand, anyway.

_You_ know, back when I was deliriously "obsessed" with him. Well, not for long periods of time, at least. So _now_, in light of my stumblebum moment a few seconds ago, in addition to the newfound revelation that he is now officially "a man," thanks to his hot stuff girlfriend, there is just _no_ way.

I'm liable to scream, _hit_ the guy, _cry_, or puke my guts out if I did.

Or, knowing me and my lately erratic mood swings lately, quite possibly all of the above.

_However_, while I may not have been able to look up at the tall brunet quite yet, even actually trying to pretend that I didn't even know he was there, I _definitely_ could feel his hot gaze practically _burning_ into me.

". . . . Um . . . g-good morning, Princess; would it be all right if I took a seat with you?" is what I suddenly hear Caleb utter after what felt like an eon, a bit quietly and . . . I don't really want to say intensely. More like . . . "_concentrated_," as though he were making certain not to say anything that would offend me or whatever.

_I_ don't know. It was just _weird_. (There's that word again.)

So, still a bit flustered over my previous (and sadly, _frequent_) clumsy attack, I could only make a small, but still noticeable gesture with my hand to let Caleb know it was all right to proceed.

Well, it honestly _wasn't_ all right, but it also wasn't everyday he'd come over to me during study hall . . . or, any _other_ time, really.

So, sue me.

My curiosity was slightly piqued at that moment.

The guy places my notebook and papers back onto the table and sits down, thankfully across from me, I can manage to slightly see even with my eyes calculatingly downcast, and then clears his throat before continuing on.

"Um . . . thank you, Your Highness," Caleb starts just as quietly as before, but a little less "intense . . ." er, "_concentrated_." He's just lucky I was still within a slight daze at that moment, that I didn't bite his head off for continuing to "honor" me with the ever annoying royal titles, there. . . .

And then, there was just . . . _silence_.

Seriously.

What is _with_ us and the ever loving _silence_ all the time??

I mean, I know that it's just always been our "thing," since really the start of my whole Guardian career. And, you know, also the fact that we virtually know diddily _squat_ about one another, and so, like I'd said once before, I believe, if it doesn't have to do with Elyon and her world, we don't honestly say anything directly to one another.

Hmm . . . makes me truthfully wonder how I could be so in love with the man, otherwise, then.

_Ah!!_ I mean _could_ have been! _Could_ have! _Past_ tense, _past_ tense!

Blug . . . .

Um . . . what was my point to my rambling (as though there ever really _is_), again??

Oh! Right!

The _silence_. . . . . . . .

It's starting to get a little . . . not creepy, but a bit disconcerting, here.

Like, is there really nothing at _all,_ which you couldn't think to bring up as _some_ sort of makeshift conversation, buddy??

I know he can't honestly be _that_ boring, given that he has, from what I can tell, anyway, a fair decent amount of friends outside of the Guardian and Metamoor "circle."

Of course, granted, to be fair, I could say the same for _myself_.

Ya know, thinking of something to say, as well. But, this really isn't _about_ me, so moving on.

Boy, it's kind of "funny," if you will, the things you start to notice about a person, once the haze has begun to lift and the rose-colored glasses have been removed.

I wonder what else about Mr. Caleb "Virgilio" and his "habits," I guess you can say, while in my presence, I'll begin to notice, as well.

Hmm. . . .

Well, anyway, in the meantime, back to the present. Er, past but is the present for _you_, journal, which is . . . or _was_ study hall.

Ahh! _Whatever!_

I need a vacation, _seriously_.

So, Caleb and I are now seated together, very uncomfortably so (at least, in _my_ opinion, anyway), and practically suffocating through all of the gotdanged absence of sound neither one of us seems to ever be capable of making while in the other's presence.

And for that reason alone (that, and because, prior to starting to write my other entry, I had been on an honest roll with my Public Speaking speech, _I_ think, anyway, and didn't want to lose that miraculous momentum), _I_ actually took the first plunge.

Still didn't, or _couldn't_, rather, look at him, but hey.

It was a start.

". . . . Is . . . there something you wanted, Caleb? T-That is, I don't . . . mean to sound rude or anything, here, but . . . you've never come to . . . sit with me ever before," I remarked with a small sigh, while struggling very hard to bite back my disgust and disappointment that he was no longer a _virgin_, and that I regrettably _knew_ this. And then, I'd realized that my voice had totally gotten softer, there, right when I reflected upon the undeniable fact that, no, Caleb never _has_ come to sit with me for anything, really, and not just for classes, only.

Well, not counting _this_ class I'm presently in, English, and the whole having to share the book we're reading in class with me.

But, one, he technically was never sitting _with_ me, but merely still within his _own_ seat, at his own _desk_, and just moved a tiny bit closer to mine. And then, two, that's long over with now, anyway, seeing as he's _been_ having his book back to use for himself.

It just merely sucked that yeah, okay, I was honestly a bit sad by this fact, and, moreover, that we've honestly never truly acted as the "friends" we at _least_ could have and _should_ have been by this point, if nothing else (or more than . . . bleh).

And it also, more so sucked that I just _had_ to let it slip and more or less show in front of him.

_Honestly_.

I'm seriously starting to experience _massive_ epiphanies, here, the more I continue on in this entry, over perhaps precisely _why_ Caleb and I had been doomed from the start, and why he's never noticed me "in _that_ way" the entire time he's known of my existence.

Well, how _could_ he have, if he doesn't even _know_ me, isn't even my _friend_, and majority of the time finds it painstakingly _difficult_ to dream up more than a full _sentence_, if he's lucky, when speaking to me??

_Geez_.

What the Hell was I even smoking, thinking that it ever could have been possible between us, even for a moment's worth??

¡Ay, Chihuahua.

I _am_ a flippin' loser.

A borderline psychotic, lonely, absolutely _stressed_ and delusional _loser_. . . .

Ah, well!

That's _tomorrow's_ problem, I suppose.

One (never ending) issue at a time, for now, please.

So, after I said what I'd said, I think I'm gonna have to wait ages for a reply, since, as I've already stated, when it comes to Caleb, or rather, _myself_, he's not exactly _spry_, so to speak. I also could only _imagine_ his facial expression right then, seeing as I then began to pretend to be immersed within one of the sheets of paper I'd at that moment randomly pulled from out of the chaotic pile I'd pushed to the side.

It was just the stupid syllabus to my Economics class, which made my head begin to hurt (as I'd idly read each section Mr. Tucci had already taught, and would begin to in the very near future), because it made me think of the project I have _yet_ to begin for his class, as well.

So, I _really_ didn't need Caleb and his being there, sat ridiculously _too_ close to me (even _if_ it was still across the circular shaped table, which was, in all honesty, not a very _big_ one, at that) and thus distracting me right then.

I had serious work to do, if I didn't want to quite possibly become the first princess in history, due to failure, to be held back a grade, or something.

And I was just about to reopen my mouth and tell him something along those lines (sort of, anyway), when Caleb finally spoke.

Well, not really "finally," as it was actually a lot more swift than his other responses of the past, considering.

He goes, "Well . . . I suppose that _is_ true, Princess Will -- About our never having previously sat together in this study hall, before, I mean. _Honestly_, half of the time, I'll forget that you're even _in_ here with me. . . ."

Okay.

_Wow_.

Like I really _needed_ a reminder, or to hear that so _soon_, while I'm still trying to get over the guy, thanks.

Of _course_ you never realize I'm here, Caleb! When have you _ever??_

Ugh.

_Men_.

I was just about to most likely rail into him for that, and abuse my "royalness," in order to command him to go away and he'd most likely would have complied (being so "respectful" to royalty, and all), when he quickly continued, almost as though he'd never even said what he had at all.

That, or the more likely culprit, that he didn't freaking _care_.

"But, you see . . . well, since you _are_ here and all, and. . . . Okay, well, _obviously_, I'm sure Ms. Wojick has, by now, spoken to you and told you about how she'd like you to . . . '_tutor'_ me with my poetry, right?" the green eyed devil asked me with slight hesitance, and what honestly sounded like faint _abashment_ at first. That is, until it immediately gave way to the blatant (and definitely unappreciated) _skepticism_ then effortlessly suffusing itself into his deep, but still slightly boyish sounding voice.

A voice which usually would make me go weak in the knees to listen to, for that very reason (the whole "I'm just about done with puberty, but still have managed to retain the cute and adorable lightness of my previous youth" thing it does), but now I just wanted to _kick in_ with my foot.

I mean, _really!_

I know that I didn't and _still_ don't want to tutor Caleb, let alone _anyone_, for that matter. But did he _have_ to sound so _doubtful_ that I could actually accomplish such a "feat????"

That was when, ladies and gentlemen, I'd finally seemed to completely forget all about my desire not to look at him at all costs, and proceeded to gaze directly into his suddenly surprised looking emerald gems.

I guess all he has to do is piss me off every time we see each other from now on, and _that_ should do the trick, then.

"Yes, she _did_, actually. And why sound so _cynical_ about it?? Do I _really_ seem _that_ incapable of being able to help someone with their poetry??" I found myself practically barking at the dude before I could stop myself, my Economics syllabus sheet and the stress of its attached project assignment effortlessly forgotten.

I expected Caleb to become just as irritated at that moment (as is his usual reaction, I've managed to witness, whenever anyone -- Especially his _woman_, would get in his face, either for no reason or otherwise), but I didn't care.

I was silently thinking to myself, _Ohh, __please__, bring it on. I __need__ the excuse to properly vent all of my frustrations about you to your __face__, for once!_

And he'd honestly did do as I'd thought, what with the small, but nonetheless visible frown beginning to etch itself onto his tawny (and _ridiculously_ handsome -- _Damn_ you!!) face for a few moments.

But then, he did the craziest, most unexpected thing.

. . . . He _smiled_.

Yeah, I know.

Definitely "what the _eff??"_ worthy.

Especially since he's never in his _life_ (well, you know, since being and living here on Earth, and more or less joining the Guardian clique) ever _once_ done so towards _me_, of all people.

_To_ me.

_At_ me.

Granted, it was a bit on the "eww, _please_ stop that, because I'm liable to run for my life in terror!" side, given the current circumstances, and the aforementioned pre-existing one.

I mean, I just basically snapped at you, and all you can do is _smile_ at that??

_Super_ weird. (Annnd yet _again_, folks. I'm telling you, that word just _fits!_)

Anyway, so, because of this bizarre occurrence, I'm stuck being flustered all over again and, like a reject, end up stammering out, ". . . . W-W-_What??"_

Sigh.

Never ends.

And as though _that_ wasn't enough, I could then begin to feel myself starting to freaking _blush_ for it, and _especially_ did even harder, once Caleb revealed a pretty valid point within his reply.

He's all, ". . . . _No?_ On the _contrary_, actually, Princess. According to Ms. W., you're pretty 'well versed' when it comes to poetry, or _writing_, for that matter. _Seems_ to be the case, based upon that pretty insightful response you'd given the other day, during our _Tuesdays with Morrie_ group work. . . . _Anyway_, to put it bluntly, our teacher seems to have a lot of confidence in you -- Not to mention, it isn't really as though either of us has much of a _choice_ upon this matter -- and so, I'm just going to have to go with the flow. . . ."

"_Go with the flow??"_

Easy for _him_ to say.

_He_ isn't the one still partially afflicted with the once undying adoration for specific person of the opposite sex, and then unfortunately became forced to _work_ with them.

And then, _geez_.

Did Ms. Wojick _have_ to go and tell _Caleb_, of all human beings, all of those mushy-gushy and praising compliments about my so called knack for writing??

If I didn't know any better, I'd say that she's doing this on _purpose_. . . .

So, now, I'm stuck blushing like mad because of this and left without anything to say, sadly, while wishing Caleb could just go back to his not noticing me as per usual, okay? And then, as though having momentarily forgotten, adds _this_ as some sort of afterthought, "Oh. And what I meant with my other comment earlier, was merely the fact that, well, in _my_ opinion, anyway, you can't honestly _teach_ someone how to write poetry. . . . Well, of course, there's the whole skeletal mechanisms and such, I suppose . . . the different styles and the like. Haiku, free verse, limerick, etcetera. . . . But, _that's_ all technical. What eventually ends up onto the paper . . . it can't be taught _or_ explained. It just all . . . comes from _here_. . . ."

I looked up in time (because my unfortunate bouts of flabbergast had promptly caused me to look away from the lad, of course) to see Caleb slowly, but gently rest a strong palm over the left side of his chest . . . his _heart_.

And that act, that _sight_, coupled by his unexpected (as well as very _uncharacteristic_) . . . emotional "rawness," as it were, over a matter which hadn't to do with smashing some otherworldly enemy's face in with one of his patented _roundhouse kicks_, and. . . .

_Yeah_.

It certainly bowled _me_ over, for sure, to the point of even having my mouth just slightly open agape for a few seconds . . . _unfortunately_.

And then, once more, Caleb succeeded in surprising me all over again, with what he'd done next.

He _laughed_.

Okay, so it certainly wasn't one of those boisterous ones I'll sometimes witness him do with his compadres, either over here on Earth or back in Metamoor, no. It was more like a barely audible . . . not even really a "_chuckle_," I would call it.

It was just a _sound_, which, in my opinion, I guess just closely resembled a backwards sort of laugh, all right??

". . . . What is it? Oh . . . I guess hearing stuff like _that_ coming from the planetary alien, who was once so very foreign to the ways and customs of this particular planet _might_ be a bit odd, yeah," the ex-Rebel Leader remarked within a discreet whisper, most likely out of habit, just in case anyone may happen to eavesdrop upon this slightly Guardian-like matter.

And being that I'm Miss Popular now, the chances were highly probable.

In any event, Caleb continued on, his voice raised a bit higher, now.

"But, I _have_ been living here for a few years, now, after all -- Not to mention been climbing up through your guys' scholastic ladder a bit successfully, despite my personal background, as well, so. . . ." he suddenly trailed off, as though he had at last finally run out of things to say (which, had that been the case, would not have surprised me. It was the _opposite_, his having spoken this much and for this long at _all_, which continued to catch me off guard).

Feeling myself gradually getting over the previous shock and awkwardness of what the guy had uttered, all about poetry, moments before, I slowly closed my mouth before clearing my throat.

I _then_ began to feel as though I needed to be doing something with my hands -- _Anything_.

_Something_ to further distract myself from those words continuing to echo within my head, and the quite obvious fact that the owner to them was still seated relatively close to me.

So, I'd promptly reached for my previously discarded pencil, and began to gently swing it back and forth in between the thumb and index finger of my right hand, as I usually tend to do whenever either bored during one of my classes, or stumped upon a _useless_ math problem.

I _even_ took another chance and looked back up at him. _Granted_, it wasn't directly into his wickedly marvelous green eyes, no, but at his left cheek, instead.

But, who cares?

"_Uhhh_ . . . huh," I began with a breathy sort of air, stretching out the "uhh" almost in emphasis, over my utter perplexity over what was continually unfolding before me. "So . . . then, that being the case and all . . . why exactly _would_ you need . . . '_assistance'_ on your poetry, being that you seem to be quite the expert, based upon all that you'd just said??"

Caleb seemed to begin to relax (which is kind of backwards to say, or rather, _write_, considering I thought that _I_ had been the only one feeling awkward and uncomfortable throughout this entire conversation, thanks), as he then suddenly leaned to his right and rested his head against the balled up fist he had, at that moment, made, before giving a slight shrug.

Even his "always super straight and never once lazy" (that I've always witnessed, at least) posture actually declined just ever so slightly, I could see.

I started thinking to myself, _What is __with__ this guy, today?? Apparently, all that he'd needed this entire time of residing here on Earth was some '__booty'__ to make him significantly __less__ uptight, or something??_

And then, of course, I'd immediately silently scolded my brain for going there, when it was neither needed _nor_ desired, at that, or any _other_ given time, thank you very much.

Still, though: What _was_ with him?

I forced myself to hurriedly reason that it was merely because we were discussing a topic he'd blatantly found at _least_ interesting, if not fun, that he was suddenly able to find himself capable of speaking with me for _more_ than eight seconds.

And I did this, while also biting down pretty hard onto my tongue to prevent myself from screaming in disgusted frustration at my mind's previously stupid thought.

All of this, while trying my best to continue listening to poor, unsuspecting Caleb (whom, if he _had_ been aware, would most likely only laugh once more, and say something insensitive like, "When you, too, finally shack up with someone -- And I _do_ mean, '_finally_,' then you'll properly understand, Your Highness").

". . . . Well, I don't really know, exactly. I mean, I don't pretend to act as though I'm some 'expert' at writing poetry, as you'd just said -- What with Ms. Wojick's feeling that I needed help proving just that. But, after a few rocky starts of trying to both understand as well as get the hang of it, thinking _less_ and . . . I guess, feeling _more_, writing a couple poems here and there wasn't so hard, anymore, Princess," Caleb thoughtfully revealed, while gazing uninterestedly at his own textbooks and notebooks that he had placed upon his side of the little table. He then, as though suddenly realizing a mistake he had made or whatever, promptly readjusted his posture and placed his hand away from his face.

_I'm_ guessing it was most likely due to the fact that he'd just once again finished calling me a blasted "_Princess_," and thus, re-remembering or something, so to speak, his manners.

Whatever.

Whether it be him, an actual friend, the President of the United States, or the _Pope_, himself, I couldn't care _less_ about proper etiquette that needed to be exhibited while within my company.

But I didn't bother to let Caleb know this, as I knew it, like so many _other_ matters relating to him (of the personal nature, that is), would simply be moot.

So, while merely pretending as though I hadn't caught that, I just nodded my head in understanding, before murmuring a soft "Mmhmm," with a sort of question-like tone lingering at the end of it, so he'd know that he could continue.

And that, he did.

". . . . Y-Yeah, well . . . I guess what I've been handing in lately, either as assignments, or within that class journal she makes us keep, hasn't exactly been 'great' to Ms. W., because, besides some of the little side comments she'd leave on some of them after handing them back as an indication, she'd finally pulled me aside last week and . . . told me that she was _worried_ about me," the brunet told me with a quick, but still catchable roll of his eyes as he'd then looked away from me, apparently not agreeing with our shared teacher's sentiments or beliefs. "Yeah . . . that, as she'd put it, 'lately, you've seemed to have lost that . . . that _spark_, or _muse_, even, that had fueled your inspiration where your poetry is concerned. . . .' And then, the _next_ thing I know, she's . . . well, you obviously know the rest, Your Highness. . . ."

I could only raise the both of my eyebrows upon finished listening to the rest of Caleb's "colorful" story, as I didn't know what to say for any of it.

But, it _does_ at least sound like Ms. Wojick really honestly seems to care a great deal for each of her students, judging by what she'd apparently said to Caleb, and then, of course, to _me_ the other day, as well.

Makes me like her even more, really.

Ya know, despite the fact that she's making me work with this guy, and all.

Finally, after a few moments of honestly elapsed, you've got it, _silence_, I go, "Um . . . all right, then. Sooo . . . I guess I should probably . . . _I_ don't know, look at some of your past poems, up to now, or something, and maybe give . . . an opinion of some sort?? I mean, I don't . . . I'm not really sure _how_, exactly, to 'tutor' you -- Or _anyone_, really, on something like this, mainly for all the reasons you'd previously stated. . . ."

I would have honestly felt pretty retarded right then, over my virtually rambling incoherently, there, except that I was at that moment forcibly shifting my brain into "_no_ nonsense; time for _business_" mode. Almost the sort of identical mentality I tend to take whenever dealing with Guardian affairs.

It seemed to help, and he seemed to sense it, I think, because Caleb merely gave a small nod before opening up the glossy, black colored folder resting previously unattended before him, and pulled out a few sheets of paper.

And so, for the remainder of that specific period, I ended up reading a total of six of Caleb's poems (What a weird sentence to write, there, by the way: "_Caleb's poems_." Ah! _See??_ "_Weird_." That's like, the ninth time, now!), which surprised me that he honestly let me do so.

But, then again, based upon what he had written for most of them, there really wasn't anything "oooh, oh my _God!_ Don't read it!" about them, anyway. You know, given that the majority had been for past assignments, with a few attached guidelines that all of us in that class had to abide by at that time, _anyhow_.

And I wouldn't say that they were . . . _boring_, or weren't any good, either. Because they were (good, I mean. Or, at least, good enough, anyway), from what I could tell.

_A lot_ better than what I'd always envisioned Mr. Big Shot, "_Rarr!_ Me _smash!_ _You_ go bang and _die!_" ex-Rebel Leader could possibly come up with, at least.

They were just English class assigned poems, none of which were Nobel Prize winning worthy, no, but still quite insightful, nonetheless.

And I was about to tell him so, when I'd noticed, within the corner of my eye, _another_ poem, left unattended and mostly hanging out of the one side of the two flaps inside of Caleb's still opened English folder. He was, the entire time I was preoccupied with reading his past poetry and verbally giving little comments to each here and there, otherwise busy writing his "I Am" poem, as he'd informed me he'd attempt to do in the meantime.

So, _thankfully_, he didn't seem to notice _me_ noticing his belongings in the nosy little way I was blatantly doing right then, what with his brown colored, ruffled mopped head being tilted downwards as he continued to, slowly, but surely, work upon his latest assigned poem.

I don't even really know _why_ I'd felt so compelled to take a gander at this particular poem, and after having managed to read it without a hitch, I _still_ don't know why (_mainly_ because I don't honestly understand its overall meaning).

But, something inside of me just said, "Hey, _go_ for it! It's hanging out there like that, and practically _begging_ to be read, too!", even though Caleb obviously didn't feel it so important to be looked over by me like the others, as well, seeing as he hadn't personally handed it to me.

Or, maybe he hadn't honestly realized that he _hadn't_ given it to me yet. I mean, he _did_ just sort of hurriedly hand me his small collection of poetry, and _this_ particular one was apparently at the very back of his folder.

So, it's quite possible it had merely been left behind by mistake.

_Either_ way, I wanted to read it for _whatever_ reason, and again, _for_ whatever reason, certainly wasn't going to alert him of that fact.

And so, while pretending to merely be lifting up one of his latest poems I had been previously beginning to read at eye level for better comfort, I in reality used the sheet of paper as cover, while averting my eyes away from it and onto the curious poem resting upon the table.

_Apparently_, my brain had found it to be _so_ "interesting," as it were, that I actually kind of have it _memorized_ . . . I _think_.

_I_ don't know.

I may end up writing some parts to it wrong in here, but oh well.

Here's what Caleb had written:

_**To Crimson from Golden**_

_**By Caleb Virgilio**_

_Once upon a dream I will see her there,_

_A statuesque beauty with hair so fair_

_With eyes so cool, as a cerulean night,_

_And skin so pale, as a new day's light._

_-_

_She is the Goddess, who governs all life,_

_So grand and just be her unparalleled might._

_She is the one wherein my heart resides,_

_Never shall it once desire that it divide. . . ._

_-_

_O, alas, I must wonder what befalling is this_

_That curiously, such dreams have gone to the abyss?_

_Dreams that are simple, dreams that are pure,_

_Have now left me feeling so jarred and unsure._

_-_

_Try as I might, I cannot understand_

_What foul trickery that perhaps is at hand_

_Is it pure madness, one that's unspoken_

_To turn these dreams . . . to crimson from golden?_

. . . . Again, I have _no_ clue what this basically cryptic poem is about, or even _when_ Caleb had written it or might have handed it in (since there, _duh_, isn't a date on it, and no familiar scripted red ink marks or comments from Ms. Wojick scrawled anywhere on it).

But, it _could've_ just been an old rough draft of _whatever_ final copy he might have turned in for a grade at some point.

_Either_ way, _talk_ about a strange poem. . . .

I mean, what with all this talk about "_golden_" and "_crimson_," and dreaming and . . . _I_ don't know.

Just plain _strange_, I tells ya.

It wasn't badly written, though, with _lots_ of emotional insight (well, I _suppose_ so, anyway, since, again, I don't understand the poem's overall meaning, let _alone_ topic).

Definitely _a lotttt_ better than the _other_ six poems I had read, put together, for sure.

It's just . . . _strange_.

Great. Now I'm starting to say "_strange_," over and over!

_Ugh_.

Add _one_ more to the list, then, because it's stranger _still_ to me, that I even felt compelled to read it at _all_, to the point of basic _memorization_.

Why _did_ I??

Hmm. . . .

Well, I'm sure I'll forget all about it pretty soon, regardless, especially since I'm never planning on asking Caleb to explain it, as I'd already said.

To be fair, I shouldn't really be surprised that it _didn't_ make much sense, his poem, seeing as the author _is_ quite the enigma, himself, _anyhow_.

But . . . yeah.

_Anyway_. . . .

So . . . that was that. I guess.

_I_ don't know.

I mean, after moving on from having read that "dreamy yellow-red" poem of Caleb's, and then promptly cleared my throat to get his attention in order to discuss the one I'd had in my hand (and was supposed to be reading), I'd managed to fit in a few more comments on what I thought he might have been going for and trying to convey in that specific poem, before the bell had suddenly rang.

And not a moment too soon, _I_ think.

Well, granted, I thankfully had things to keep me preoccupied (a.k.a. Caleb's poetry) from the fact that I was still continually stuck within pretty much super close proximity to him. And, _because_ of that fact (having the poems, I mean), it had made it a bit more bearable.

That, and my brain was still in "business" mode, right until the end of the period.

Still.

One sitting type of session with my former flame, or, would/could/_should_ have been my former (official, in the "I actually _dated_ you" sense) flame is quite enough for now.

Even _if_ it had only luckily been for less than twenty-two minutes.

Imagine if it had been a regular, full period school day??

_Dead_.

I really _don't_ know why I'd used to crave for such an occurrence in the past.

I mean, really.

They're always so awkward and . . . yes, I'm gonna say for the billionth time, now:

_Weird_.

But, anyway, like it honestly mattered, when I think on it now, seeing as that was fourth period, and, as always, I would just be seeing him again within the _following_ period (and again, for this _current_ one, English) for lunchtime.

So, talk about a "breather," of sorts, there.

Regardless, I began to pack up my things and decidedly hang back a bit, in order to give Caleb a head start towards the other cafeteria, where we habitually ate our lunches together.

Well, not _together_, together, but you get me.

But, instead of immediately bolting off and out of the doors as I will usually witness him doing during this shared period (mainly so that he could catch up to his beloved girlfriend, Cornelia, in order to properly escort her to their little precious luncheon together), he, _too_, hangs back for a minute, and _stares_ at me.

I, of course, hadn't honestly yet taken notice of this, due to purposefully busying myself with my things, so that I hopefully wouldn't be further addressed by the guy. But after a few seconds, I began to feel someone watching me (I mean, you know, beyond the _usual_ amount of _eight hundred_ I now receive from both familiar as _well_ as random eyes of the fellow student populace), and so looked up.

And there he is, looking at me with this, "I can wait until she's finished before I speak" sort of look. At least, it _had_ been, before Caleb saw that I'd finally noticed him watching, and then blinked a couple of times before stating (with a slight frown, which confused me, because it's like, is he honestly upset by what he's about to say, or what), ". . . . Th . . . _thank_ you, Your Highness, for your . . . pretty useful insight regarding my poetry."

And then, of all things he could have done, he _bowed!!_

_Caleb_.

Caleb, of all _freaking_ people, just _bowed_ towards me.

I mean, _yes_, technically, he's already done it before, during that time we'd spoken on the staircase near our English class, about going to visit Elyon after school that particular day.

But _that_ had been kinda sorta "_private_."

Well, more private than _this_ one had been, anyway, _that's_ for freaking sure.

The _first_ time hadn't been in front of a bigger "_audience_," _practically_ within the center of the room, and hadn't been done at a _much_ slower pace as _this_ one!

And also, this one was like, _I_ don't know. Almost _somber_, yet almost sort of _mocking_, in a way, the way Caleb had done it, too.

And then, before I could even say a word, he's already off, leaving to go retrieve his future _wife_ and forget all about me . . . which he seemed to do precisely that, seeing as he never said a _word_ to me during the entire lunch period about our "poetry session."

Or, a word to me, _period_, actually (and neither did _Cornelia_, actually. Well, nothing outside talk about the "crazy snowstorm we got smashed with," or things related to Elyon within a fleetingly discreet sort of way, so's Nova and Ernest would continue to be none the wiser over it. I would have been more "concerned" as to why she wasn't barreling into me for _one_ thing or another, but then recalled that she, _too_, would _have_ to be within a _much_ better mood, now that, if you please, she had newly been "deflowered. . . ." _Gross_).

_Asssss _per flippin' _usual_, folks.

_Argh!! _

Will that young man _ever_ cease in confusing the ever loving _piss_ straight out of me????

And will _I_ ever stop _caring_ that he continues to do so??

Arggghhh, _again!_

Just . . . _weird_.

_Seriously_.

It's all I can honestly say about that entire freaking period.

Just plain _weird_. . . .

**-- End of Chapter Forty-Eight

* * *

**

**(A.N. Yayyyy, c'est fini!! Woo! :Dances: You don't know HOW long I've wanted to actually sit down to write this and then get it out to yooze guys. LoL I've had it in my mind for soooo many months now, with its outline, just like all the other chapters, written well in advance. But I couldn't have written it down until I'd first written the other chapters. Otherwise, "timeline" wise, it wouldn't have been as organic for me when I finally sat down to write it. Ya know, each chapter I write, all of the emotions I write Will or other characters exhibiting I, too, am feeling – Hence, it usually being so believable to you guys to read. So, if I'd written this chapter while still having the ones before it still trapped within my mind and not yet written, themselves, everything would've just gotten messed up. LoL And I'm crazy enough as it is – I don't need further incentive, here. LoL But, yeah! Chapter forty-eight, people! Much longer than its predecessor, far more easy to pop out and in one sitting, to boot – Again, because I was itching to do so in the first place, annnnnd filled with oodles and oodles of Will/Caleb…"WEIRD"-ness. See, now I'M saying it. Thanks, Will. LoL I'll leave everything that'd happened in it up to your guys' interpretation and not even comment on it, so yeah. This is the first time I didn't write a lunch scene, and they're usually one of my faves to do, too. LoL But given that Corny still "hates" Will or hates ON her, or whatever, 'Ranee's pretty much tired of playing mediator for the two of them for it, and Caleb's gone back to being his mute, backwards self, there really wasn't much to write about it. Except that it sucked for her. LoL Anyway! Still hope you'd all enjoyed it, leave lots of lovely little reviews, and stay tuned for more! Especially since the next chapter will be just as "fun," with a little teeny tiny bit more of Will/Caleb-ness. Yay! HeHe Oh, and yes, Caleb's poem was written by me, before someone asks. It ain't perfect, no, but it ain't supposed to be. It WAS technically written by a teenager, after all. Him, not me. LoL But not to say teenagers are incapable of writing superb poetry, either, no. Just saying. Bleh! Whatever! It's mine, okay? LoL)**


	50. Chapter Forty Nine

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. - I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Yay! It's been a while, I KNOW! I think a year or almost a year or whatever, I don't know. Meh. LoL Sorry for that, but a lot's been going on since the last post, one of which getting married and all that, so yeah. That ate up a good chunk of free time, among other, various life affairs. LoL _

_Anyhow! Please to be enjoying this chapter!_

_

* * *

_This chapter was created/written in November 2009.

* * *

**Chapter Forty Nine**

**Friday, November 10th, Economics**

I would really, truly, and wholeheartedly like to know, or, even more importantly, _understand_ why absolutely unnecessary things keep happening to me (not counting the whole being a princess now scenario, of course, since, let's face it, absolutely unnecessary things have been happening to me _long_ before then).

I'd honestly appreciate it.

I mean, I'm starting to wonder if the Cosmos or the Grand Design doesn't have it out for me, personally, perhaps for misdeeds and general bad karma I may have enacted and accumulated during a past life of mine . . . or two.

Maybe _that's_ why I was chosen to be a Guardian in the first place, even. Not because I had anything super positive to contribute to the overall organization for Good, but because it was just a trickledown effect of leftover "community service" my former crap life self hadn't completed.

I'm _seriously_ wondering all of this, journal.

All overdramatizing everything like I usually do aside, as well.

I'm starting to feel myself getting a bit past that pretty bad trait, anyway . . . well, _today_, or for now, at least.

Going into yet another hissy fit and either crying or screaming wouldn't change what's happened, anyhow. But I still can't help or stop the immense feelings of anger, confusion, and even _betrayal_ which refuse to let up from within me.

And all in thanks to Ms. Wojick, her _stupid,_ themed extra credit poetry assignment, and _my_ ridiculous belief that anything written within her English class would actually be kept _private_.

I mean, if I really wanted to boil it down _objectively_, though, it was honestly my own fault for being a bit greedy, as it were, by having bothered to submit anything in for said assignment, given that I'm nowhere near in need of "spare change points" for that particular class, as we all know.

And, it is also my own fault for having moronically decided to derive inspiration from my once forlorn adoration for _Caleb_ and write _about_ him.

What _was_ I thinking, seriously?

Of course, granted, I didn't name any names or even give too many specifics where he was concerned.

I'm not _that_ asinine, after all . . . well, about _seventy-six percent_ of me isn't that asinine, anyhow, considering the remaining twenty-four percent had decided to take a chance and submit that stupid piece in for a grade in the _first_ place.

A damned grade I didn't even _need_, at that.

Still, at the time, I can remember that I was in such desperate need for emotional release about all of my bottled up feelings and other various emotions about the whole "Caleb and never-will-be I" calamity that I truly wasn't thinking of the involved risks.

All _I'd_ heard were the words "extra credit" and "themed assignment: 'raw,'" while secretly gazing at the increasingly troublesome ex-Rebel Leader within the corner of my eye on that fateful day.

What harm _could_ it have possibly done in the long run, you know?

Evidently, a great _deal!_

I didn't even _remember_ having written the blasted, literary _curse_, to tell the truth, since it had been several weeks ago when I'd handed it in to Ms. Wojick for a grade.

Almost a _month_, now, actually, now that I think upon it some more.

And considering all of the equally, if not greater drama which has been transpiring within my life since that time, is it even a surprise?

At any rate, let me fully explain it all from the beginning . . . or, starting from the point after I'd arrived to English class, and once again employed my usual and trusty "Wall of Ignorability," as I call it, the moment Caleb walked in and took a seat next to me, as per usual.

I had actually finally managed to get our "study session" from earlier out of my head by that point, that I didn't want any sort of relapse related to him, you know?

But then, like I'd stated at the start of this entry, unnecessary things just like to happen to me.

So, the bell rings and we're all working on our 'I Am' poems once again for the majority of the shortened period, right (well, in my case, working on said poem while also writing up my previous entry on the side)? And then, out of nowhere, Ms. Wojick suddenly pipes up at around twelve minutes or so before the bell rang, and tells us how she's finally deciding to return those evil little extra credit assignments!

She's all, "Oh, _right!_ Before class is over, I'd better give back the 'Raw' themed poetry assignments some of you had decided to do for extra credit a couple of weeks ago! Sorry it's taken so long to return, but my schedule has become increasingly busy, what with midterms coming up, especially!"

Eeeyeah. _Tell_ me about it.

Anyway, this wasn't when I started to become directly affected by anything yet, though.

Nooo, no no. _Far_ too early.

Not to mention the fact that, again, I didn't even remember the assignment, period, let alone whether or not I had decided to do it, myself.

And so, as a result, I just continued to keep on with my own affairs, choosing to keep my nose buried within my notebook and trying to finish the new, _horrible_ draft I managed to make, while also continuing to ignore the right side of the room where Mr. Caleb dwelled.

All in all, things were pretty successful and progressing swimmingly.

But then, it happened.

Ms. Wojick just _had_ to launch into another one of her "Moment of Pride" tendencies for her more gifted students, and continues on with, "Now, before I hand them back, though, and before I let all of you finish up your work, I'd like to read a few of them which I felt were truly inspired, creative, and absolutely captured the focus of the assigned theme."

Not even by _that_ crucial point did I start paying better attention to what she was saying, as, like I said, I still didn't honestly remember whether or not I'd written anything for the stupid assignment, and so therefore, wasn't interested.

I just kept on within my mentally crafted little bubble of (dreadfully false) security.

That is, until I heard the eerily, as well as _regrettably_ familiar title of "If Only" suddenly escaping from Ms. Wojick's lips and unavoidably wafting into the surrounding atmosphere for all to hear.

Immediately my brain had woken up and gone into overdrive in _that_ instant, at the same time that I'd swiftly lifted my head up from out of my notebook.

I was sitting there, thinking various things at once, such as, _Why does that title sound so familiar to me? Did I bother to do that extra credit assignment? And why __did__ I in the first place, and what the hell did I write about?_

Yeah, well, both me and the rest of the class were about to find out, unfortunately. Well, _sort_ of, since Ms. Wojick at least always has the decency to keep things anonymous whenever she reads things any of us have written within the past aloud.

But, still.

Anonymous or not, and if it turned out to be _my_ poem that she was about to read, after all, I was _still_ going to feel every bit as uncomfortable as I naturally would have if my name _had_ been revealed to the masses.

Oh.

Right.

Before I continue, it would probably help you better understand (and perhaps even _appreciate_) the gravity of the situation, in addition to the giving you the proper amount of _sensitivity_ needed, if you _also_ fully understood what Ms. Wojick had meant or had been looking for when she'd chosen "Raw" as the theme for the assignment.

See, what she meant was for anyone who'd opted to do said extra credit would have to choose any topic or focus they wanted, and then convey it within _the_ most exposed or, as indicated by its topic title, as "_raw-like"_ as possible.

Like, for example, if someone had chosen to write about falling off of a bicycle and bruising the hell out of their knee, or breaking their leg or something, they'd have to illustrate that relatively simple scene using painstaking detail.

We're talking every last blood spill, and excruciating physical impact that would be involved for the poor victim in that moment to be painted out onto the paper so emotionally that it makes the reader feel unavoidably connected and . . . well, _raw_ afterward.

Or, as Ms. Wojick had also pointed out at the time, now that I remember the incident more vividly, we could have also literally written about the word "raw," itself, and what comes to mind when we think of it, as well.

So, basically, it was just about making the poem as riveting, descriptive, and honestly almost spellbinding as possible. You know, as a way for us to further think outside of the box and exercise our creative sides to grow more and more comfortable with each of our overall poetic capabilities.

Or, at least, that was Ms. Wojick's intention, anyway.

Needless to say, I don't think a lot of people bothered to do it, though, since, when I'd looked up and towards the front of the room where she was standing, I didn't see a whole lot of papers within Ms. Wojick's hands.

It was a pretty difficult or at least pretty tricky assignment, after all, by comparison to the regular poetry-related crap we've had to do thus far during this unit.

But, I guess I'd personally wanted to challenge myself, at the time, in addition to wanting a proper outlet in regards to my festering feelings for Caleb, evidently . . . well, either that, or I had been pretty _desperate_ then, and didn't care about said difficulty if it meant having a formal excuse to write about the stupid guy.

And it was just for extra credit? Extra credit, _again_ I will say, that I did not readily need within this specific class, to boot?

What could it hurt?

Famous last words. . . .

So, anyway, I'm sitting there, with my mind still struggling to remember for absolute certain if I really _had_ contributed anything toward that God awful assignment, what it had been about if I had and, if "If Only" had been its title, after all, when Ms. Wojick had to go and start reading it.

_Aloud_.

To the _entire class_.

To _Caleb_.

I'd instantly remembered that it _was_ my accursed poem the moment I'd heard Ms. Wojick read the very first sentence, and once said realization had effectively settled in, I'd immediately felt angry and _betrayed_, even, more than anything else, surprisingly. . . .

Why?

Because here was this blatantly emotional, revealing piece of literature, written under the unappreciated affectation that it would stay _private_ . . . or, rather, stay simply between the writer and the teacher looking it over.

I never _once_ thought, _or_ expected that what I had ended up writing down and handing into Ms. Wojick would have apparently stirred up _that_ much emotion within her as the reader, making her feel compelled enough to broadcast its contents to the _rest_ of her freaking pupils!

But, then, I'd _also_ never once thought that what I had written down was anything worth looking over twice at the time. I mean, I'm generally very tough on myself about my overall writing, anyway, but in this specific case, I didn't honestly give anything I had put down much thought.

That is, I do now remember my brain (or _heart_, as the case may be) taking over at the time, with just an overwhelming flood of pent up emotion gushing forth from inside of me and down onto the sheet of paper.

I wasn't _too_ focused upon the poem's overall technical execution, or even whether or not it was as "emotionally exposing" as Ms. Wojick had wanted.

It was just _me_, a girl tragically in love back then, and deciding to immortalize a little piece of her everyday pain through the use of writing.

So, can you honestly _blame_ me for feeling extremely handed over and outraged in that moment, regardless?

It was just all too much. . . .

I'm sure you're wondering, though, how the poem actually goes, right?

. . . . Well, _fine_, then, journal. _Fine_.

Now that I have it back within my possession and everything related to it is now clear as day once more, I'd be all too "_happy_" to share it with you, as well:

_**If Only**_

_**By Will Vandom**_

_If only you could know  
The things I long to say  
If only I could tell you  
What I wish I could convey._

_It's in my every glance  
My heart's an open book  
You'd see it all at once  
If only you would look._

_If only you could glimpse  
The feeling that I feel  
If only you would notice  
What I'm dying to reveal._

_The dreams I can't declare  
The needs I can't deny  
You'd understand them all  
If only you would try._

_All my secrets, you would learn them  
All my longings, you'd return them  
Then the silence would be broken  
Not a word would need be spoken. _

_If only it were true  
If only for a while  
If only you would notice  
How I ache behind my smile._

_I guess you never will  
I guess it doesn't show._

_But if I never find a way  
To tell you so  
Oh, what I would give  
If only you could know. . . ._

_Now_ do you see why I feel the way I do about this? What the hell was I _thinking_, writing something _that_ poignant, _and_ about Caleb of all topics?

_Damn it!_

I don't care if I'm more or less getting over the guy, this really _is_ just too much, _and_ totally _unfair!_

Maybe if he had been _absent_ today, or we didn't share the same English class, it might have been minutely better . . . I _guess_.

But, no! I couldn't even be granted _that_ much luck!

I felt so _trapped_ after Ms. Wojick finished reading my poem, made her usual, little congratulatory comments toward the "anonymous writer" and his or her literary skills, before moving onto the next poem to read aloud by another unsuspecting _schmo_ much like myself.

I say I felt trapped because it's the honest truth.

I mean, within my life. _About_ my life.

I can't really think of any part of it which I currently have active control over, _including_ my Guardian duties since, come on now, the world is _always_ going to be far more important than anything _I_ have going on (or _not_ going on) within my life.

But, yeah.

If I can't even have just a teeny tiny bit of control, or _say_, rather, over such a matter as _this_, something so theoretically miniscule by comparison to the far grander concerns like my newfound royal problems, or something, then I seriously _don't_ have any power left within my very own life.

And it isn't as though I could have gone up to Ms. Wojick after class and expressed my dislike, either, since, number one, the damage was already done, and number two, she'd probably get all extra concerned and want to know some kind of specifics.

I may like her a lot (yes, _still_, even after this regrettable act), but I'm not about to dig my proverbial grave even further and exacerbate the overall issue by letting her know who the poem had been about.

_Nuh uh_.

For the last few minutes of English, I just felt as though I was within an honest trance of sorts, really, I was that consumed with my frenzy and helplessness.

I guess that was about the only "good thing" to have occurred during that period, seeing as I could only _imagine_ how _Caleb_ had reacted to the poem, and what his face looked like after Ms. Wojick had finished reading it aloud. . . .

Although, I _did_ actually manage to catch a quick glimpse of him within the corner of my eye when I tried my best to reach out for the troublesome extra credit paper as swiftly as I could, but without being too obvious and drawing unwanted attention to myself (well, _extra_ unwanted attention to myself, which wasn't already generated by my two "trusty bodyguards" being within the classroom with me as usual, of course).

At least Ms. Wojick apparently had had enough sense of mind and "courtesy" to discreetly fold the very tops of each of poem before handing them back to the appropriate owner, so that the titles would be hidden.

You know, just in case of nosy neighbors and other nearby Looky-Loos.

_Anyway_, when I pulled my poem toward me and began to stuff the _devilish_ thing into the deepest recesses of my English folder, it was then I was able to vaguely see that Caleb was unfortunately looking at me, and rather curiously, at that.

Well, by curious, I don't mean that it was curious-strange that he was watching me. _That_ part was obvious, considering what I was doing at that moment, and revealing that yes, I _was_ an author to one of the four poems which had been read aloud before class was up.

No.

It was curious-strange within the "I don't honestly get why he's looking at me in that way" sense.

He had his left eyebrow raised, with green eyes narrowed ever so slightly, almost with suspicion, which, of _course_, instantly drained me of all of my previous feelings and replaced them with immense fear.

I wasn't feeling petrified that Caleb may have figured out or thought that the poem was about him, but rather petrified that he had figured out _which_ one was mine in the first place.

And if he had somehow managed to accomplish that, what with his generally oblivious self (well, where _I'm_ concerned, anyhow), then God only knows how long it may take him to figure out the _rest_ of the puzzle?

I ended up spending the very last few minutes of that period just staring blankly at my open notebook, while trying my absolute best to speed up time, as well as attempt to _feebly_ reassure myself that Caleb was still as much within the dark about everything as he's always been.

And as _soon_ as that bell _finally_ rang, I don't think I've ever bolted out of a classroom faster before than at that moment. I didn't even say goodbye to Ms. Wojick or at least wave like I generally usually do, either, which I'm sure she'd taken ample notice of.

But then, considering I was slightly ticked off at her for what she'd done, where's the real surprise?

So, I'm practically sprinting up the nearby staircase that I usually take to my next class, while lightly muttering several obscenities underneath my breath at the same time (and not caring whether or not I look crazy to passersby for a change, as a result), when I unfortunately hear Caleb calling after me.

I know.

_Again?_

_God_, it's like a good dream turned into some horrible_ nightmare_ from which you can never awaken, the way I'm suddenly generating so much attention from him today!

How _ironic_, n'est pas?

Not to mention that it's seriously like _déjà vu_, too, considering just a few days prior he'd done the very same action, although _that_ had been about Guardian affairs.

But I knew better this time around.

Still. _Boy_, did I really wish with all of my might that he was on his way after me in that moment to talk about going on yet another magical journey to visit Elyon again.

Unfortunately for me, though, Caleb's constant physical training and nimbleness awarded to him as a result _had_ to go and foil my desperate desire to get away in time and escape into my nearby Economics classroom, because before I knew it, he was already at my side.

I didn't even bother to say anything to the guy, or even really acknowledge him, since I knew that either way he wasn't going to leave me be until he said whatever it was he had to say.

Which, of course, I had the strong, _mortifying_ feeling that it'd be about my poem, and of whom it was truly about. . . .

Sure enough, I hear Caleb go, with a slightly tense, yet quiet tone, ". . . . I'm sorry that Ms. W. went and read your 'If Only' poem aloud like that, Your Highness - And _first_, at that. . . . Still . . . it was . . . good. I mean . . . I can now better understand why she bothered to entrust my future overall grade - Where poetry is concerned, at least - within your hands. . . ."

Trying my very, _very_ best to keep it as together as possible (even in light of the absolute, formal and premiere compliment that that otherwise _vexing_ young man has ever given me in the _history_ of our knowing one another), I forced a nonchalant shrug before coolly responding with, "I have _zero_ idea what you're talking about, Caleb. . . . I mean, _yeah_, okay, I'd written _something_ for that extra credit assignment, but it wasn't _that_ specific poem. Why _would_ I, anyway? I'm _single_, and have been for practically ages, remember?"

I had chosen to keep my focus upon the path of the increasingly crowded hallway ahead of me that entire time, for fear that everything I was currently feeling in that moment may have been leaking from out of my eyes if I'd taken a chance to gaze over at the ridiculously handsome brunet walking alongside me.

But I didn't have to bother, evidently, because before I knew it, I could hear Caleb give a sort of disgruntled sounding sigh, before unexpectedly saying a quick "Whatever," and began to walk on ahead of me without another word.

And I was honestly more relieved than anything else to have witnessed such a miraculous turn of events . . . that is, until my past life's bad karma had to go and rear its ugly head yet again, and caused Caleb to abruptly stop within his tracks and head _back_ over to me.

I was so _startled_ by that particular action, instead, that I, too, ended up becoming immediately glued within place, which nearly caused both the traditionally trailing behind Nova and Ernest to ram right into me in the process.

I honestly thought that Caleb was about to _punch_ me in the face or something, based upon the intense, pretty annoyed look he carried upon his naturally tan countenance.

_You_ know, more than I was thinking things like, _Holy Hell! I'm done for! He's finally figured out my secret, for real!_

Regardless, I never imagined he'd _ever_ say what he did next.

Once he'd gotten close enough, he cleared his throat a moment before quietly saying, ". . . . Look, Princess. I'd actually appreciate if you wouldn't insult my intelligence from now on. That is, pretending that that poem _wasn't_ yours or that I couldn't figure out that it was, considering you and I _did_ just spend an entire period together reading one another's poetry earlier today. Well, you didn't let me actually read any of _your_ past work, but the various writing tips you offered to me for some of _mine_ seemed to correlate pretty strongly with the same sort of style that the 'If Only' poem conveyed," Caleb began slowly, his facial expression changing into that same, one eyebrow lifted and eyes narrowed ever so slightly "curious" stare I caught him giving me during the end of class. "So, I _think_ that I'm now able to recognize your writing a bit better when and if it's ever read aloud in the future, thank you. . . . But, _anyway_ . . . listen. I get that this definitely isn't any of my business, or even my right to say so, all things considered, but . . . if you're really in that much pain, I mean, about your feelings and being head over heels in love like this, then . . . then maybe you should just go on ahead and let Matt know how you feel . . . how you still feel about him, rather. . . ."

And with that, Caleb offered yet _another_ one of his embarrassing, public bows of respect toward me, before parting ways once more, this time for good.

Can you _believe_ that?

CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?

Of _all_ the things I thought were running through Caleb's mind in that moment, and giving him _so_ much credit for finally being so astute where I'm concerned, he goes and tries to give me _advice_ about telling _Matt_ that I'm still in love with him!

The guy _totally_ managed to prove me right about him really being a freaking _dunce_ when it comes to matters of the heart (_especially_ relating to him and me), not to mention having left me feeling utterly _flabbergasted_!

He _honestly_ thought that my "If Only" poem was about _Matt?_ And, moreover, that I'm like, apparently so secretly _heartbroken_ and bothered by our breakup and want him _back?_

How absolutely messed up _is_ that?

I mean, I know that I was yearning and hoping like mad that Caleb really _didn't_ somehow get the drop on me about the poem's true subject, if he'd somehow figured out that I'd written it (which, evidently, wasn't all that hard for the young lad to do. I just _had_ to be picked to be his freaking "poetry coach," or _whatever_ you want to call me).

But, _still!_

_Now_, not only does he believe that I'm still in love with Matt, but I'm _also_ some pathetic, emotionally wounded _reject_ who's absolutely nothing _without_ him, for sure!

Then again, I _already_ was some pathetic, emotionally wounded reject of sorts _long_ before Caleb actively thought so, anyway, except it was secretly in regards to _him_, instead, that's all.

_Now_ what am I going to do?

Well, that is, I'm not honestly worried that Caleb would go around, blabbing it around to anyone who would listen, not even to _Cornelia_, seeing as he's never been one for much gossip or general disrespect.

But _now_, it'll be so unbelievably _awkward_ whenever he might catch me hanging out with Matt like I always have since our breakup, and probably think that while on the outside I'm smiling and joking around with him, on the _inside_ I'm dying more and more and wishing my ex would give me another chance.

I _wish_ I could say something like, at least _that_ scenario is better than Caleb knowing the _real_ truth about my (former) feelings for him, instead, but I don't think that I can.

_Either_ way, this all totally blows.

_Ugh_.

Now I'm just feeling all the _more_ defeated and angry all over again about it all.

Thank you _so_ much, the Cosmos, the Grand Design and all that jazz.

Thank you so _very_ much.

**- End of Chapter Forty-Nine**

**

* * *

(A.N. Wee, finally posted, I know. LoL Oh, and before anything's said, duh-UH, that poem wasn't written by Will OR myself, and yes, it's from TLMB. Just thought it rather befitting for Will and her ongoing – or FORMER, as she keeps telling herself – predicament about Caleb and all. That, and it's SUCH a beautiful and heartfelt song. HeHe The entire flippin' show is at that, but yeah. LoL**

**Ummm, I hate when you get to this point, and all the things you wanted to cover you'd completely forgotten. Ah, well! LoL Just know that the next chapter, if not chapter fifty-one, will be posted within the day or following day, so no worries! Wow. Chapter fifty! AND it's October again, which means the four year anniversary since this story's first been posted on here, anyway, is coming up, as well! It's funny to think, especially after all that's happened within the 'real world' for me and those I care for, blah blah, in addition to hearing that amount of time going by making it feel like it's taken this long to write in terms of consecutiveness. Nope. Life gets in the way. LoL**

**ANYWAY! Chapter fifty-one, as people had been anxious for, will be Will's 'royal' dinner! And yes, like I'd promised within the previous chapter, her luck IS going to change now. HeHe Okay, then! Later!)**


	51. Chapter Fifty

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. - I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Wahh! 430 reviews for this one story (with the lucky 430th going to yellow 14! HeHe) All of you are absolutely amazing! Thank you! And, lookit! See? Told ya I'd be back very swiftly with the next installment. LoL At least when I say such things as "in a day or two" for chapter updates, I tend to keep my word (unless things happen, then . . . well, you're on your own LoL). HeHe_

_Anyhow! Glad you all seemed to enjoy the previous chapter, and just generally enjoy the return of this story on the whole! Thanks for still sticking around, my lovie-lees!_

_Enjoy!

* * *

_

This chapter was created/written in October 2010.

* * *

**Chapter Fifty**

**Still Friday, November 10th, Math**

_Man_, what a day I'm having, even _if_ it's been one effected by a two hour delay (thank _God_).

And _being_ a shortened day, you'd think that it'd have gone by much, _much_ faster, as well, you know?

Wishful thinking.

But, hey. At least it's finally the last period of the day, and I got to spend most of it meeting with my guidance counselor, Mr. Clarkson, which was something I'd actually forgotten about (through all of the day's overall commotion), but was honestly pleased with, for once.

That is, generally, the meetings I've had with him in the past (which have thankfully decreased as the years have gone by) have been pretty _useless_, to say the least.

I mean, I don't know about anyone else's assigned guidance counselors in this school, but _mine_ honestly takes up space, really.

Maybe it's because I'm at the bottom of the alphabet and so therefore not much enthusiasm, care or active thought is executed whenever he has to meet with us "leftovers."

_I_ don't know.

But the ball was _definitely_ dropped on this one when Mr. Clarkson was hired, since not once has that man ever displayed much interest or . . . _guidance_ where me and my future courses and general upcoming academic direction is concerned.

And you'd think that maybe now that I'm both a senior, in addition to royalty he might have changed his tune, so to speak, but . . . nope.

No. Apparently, not even having the educational career of a "real life princess" within his own two hands was able to jar Mr. Clarkson from out of his admittedly apathetic coma today, _either_.

But that's all right with me, since I've always hated going to see him throughout the years, anyhow, especially since he'd always suggest that I take really bogus, boring or honestly difficult courses I'd probably flunk straight out of if I'd have listened to him.

And now that this is my final year, as I'd said, and it's all about hunkering down to finish everything required of me during said year, in addition to college focusing and all that jazz, I was initially dreading going to see that android today to talk about precisely that.

However, after enduring that horrific _disaster_ during English class, coupled by not wanting to suffer through yet another mind-numbing Math class (as always, right?), methinks suffering through yet another mind-numbing (and extremely awkward) appointment with the presumably _very_-much-single, forty-something-year-old dude _instead_ might be like a mini _vacation_.

The overall meeting had been, as expected, more of the "same ol', same ol'," which I'd honestly sort of tuned out, of course. Unfortunately for me, though, what I _hadn't_ expected was for all of it to be finished so quickly, like between six to ten minutes, _tops_.

I was banking on the monotone educator to suck up a greater portion of my final period, if not the _whole_ of it! It's like that man's brain just goes into autopilot mode, or something, because if it were _me_ with that job, I'd definitely take better care and time with each of my pupils _and_ their studies to further ensure that they're on the right track!

Not just say the same gotdanged, generic comments or ask the same questions consisting of: "How is everything going today, Miss Vandom?"; "I see you're doing well overall, but are a bit lacking within mathematics; are things moving too fast for you?"; _or_, my _personal_ favorite within the four years I've had to know (of) him: "If you ever have any questions or concerns, you know where to find me; I'm always here to help."

Is he _nuts?_

I mean, who is he trying to _kid?_

I swear, it's like he reads those lines off of a _teleprompter_ hidden somewhere within his cramped, always-smells-of-cat-food office.

And this was supposed to be a meeting more so geared toward which colleges I've narrowed down my focus upon for certain, and if I needed any assistance with more recommendations, too! Did he just think that now that I'm big shot, "Princess Wilhelmina," my future is now pretty much set in stone, or something, so why bother anymore?

Think _again_, buddy!

I _probably_ should have spoken up and maybe pointed all of that out, too, but besides generally never really communicating much with the partially bald dunce each time I've had to meet with him, my mind was still far too preoccupied with the fact that not only does Caleb now believe I'm in love with my ex-boyfriend, I was about to have to go back to the class I shared with him. . . .

I milked those five and a half minutes it had taken me to get back here for all they were worth, taking my sweet ass time while also trying to block the overall incident from my mind.

Yet, for _some_ reason, not only could I not (which really is of no surprise, that), but I was actually beginning to feel extremely _queasy_ as I got closer and closer to the classroom.

Like, nervous, slight anticipation queasy, the kind you'd feel right before a huge test you just _know_ you're definitely going to fail, or a date you've been waiting all week to come or something.

I couldn't really figure out why I was feeling this way a few moments ago, but I definitely can _now_, now that I'm stuck in my seat, in this _classroom_, and with Matt not too far away from me.

I didn't even really acknowledge him after I handed my hall pass to Ms. Kopilak, and saw him smiling at me in greeting. I just gave him this sort of lopsided shrug before I sat down.

I must have looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame or something when I did that, too, which only further added to the jumbled feelings going on inside of me.

This is just too _weird!_

I mean, I know for _sure_, hands _super_ down to the ground that I do _not_ have any sort of leftover, lingering, _or_ unwanted feelings for young Matthew, beyond that of friendship or even familial like love.

I do.

I _swear_ I do, journal!

But, then it's like, why _is_ it that I keep feeling hot in the face whenever I unfortunately think back to Caleb's _extremely_ vapid words, coupled by sneaking glances Matt's way (who has thankfully been too busy doing his usual "I _totally_ get all this math crap Ms. K.'s spouting; lucky _me!_" perfect-note-taking-as-usual routine to notice)?

Know what _I_ think it is? The power of idiotic _suggestion_.

Totally.

Yeah, like, you know how you never paid much attention to _peanuts_ before or something, for example, right? And then all of a sudden, you have people and even commercials going, "Peanuts, peanuts, _peanuts!"_ up the wazoo and left and right in your face?

_Next_ thing you know, _poof!_ You're suddenly some sort of peanut-craving _freak,_ with no life any longer!

Well, that's totally _me_ right now.

Er, not the peanut-craving freak with no life bit (although I _do_ enjoy the occasional honey roasted peanut, alongside peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwiches from time to time . . . oh, and the whole I don't have a life anymore, too. Huh, I guess it _is_ me, after all).

I meant _this_ right now.

About feeling like I actually _do_ have an interest or something in Matt again.

Ick.

That _really_ is just too gross and creepy to think about anymore.

_First,_ my mom and stupid _Eli_ thought (or still think, who knows?) that he and I were a couple again, after we both got caught in my bedroom on the night that I'd gone to visit Elyon in secret.

Now, _Caleb_ thinks along the same lines, as _well!_

What's next? The _rest_ of the school, or, even better, the rest of the _state_ (which, given my massive popularity status, basically worldwide, now, that's a frighteningly possible scenario)?

All I know for sure is that I am _not_ telling Matt about this.

_Ever_.

Nooo, way.

For one thing, I know he'll never stop _teasing_ me about it, while laughing his head off until he _cries_, and then most likely _pukes_ from over exertion.

And then, for _another_, what if in some twisted, _totally_ messed up backfiring luck or alternate dimension he'd actually find it _flattering_, and want to go out on a _date_ with me?

I'm honestly ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine (etcetera, etcetera) percent certain that that is _not_ the case, nor will it _ever_ be again.

Not in _this_ lifetime, at least (which I'm sure would make evil _Mary's_ millennium to finally realize this, of course).

Still.

Talk about _massively_ awkward, to the _highest_ power if that ever _did_ happen.

Nope.

_Nuh uh_.

This is _one_ incident my dear Matthew shall _never_ be privy to.

Eww.

Did I just say "_my dear Matthew?"_

Wait, wait! It's okay, because I _always_ call him stuff like that, although mainly out of _sarcasm!_

Wait, again! I "_always_" call him stuff like that? Have I _really?_ And in _front_ of him, too? What was I _thinking?_

Ahh, _stop_ it, Will!

Damn you, the power of suggestion!

Oops!

Matt just caught me looking at him!

How _embarrassing!_

. . . . WHY _IS_ THAT EMBARRASSING AT ALL?

Holy _Hell_, do I totally need a new boyfriend, and _soon_, before I completely lose my mind, once and for all!

**- End of Chapter Fifty

* * *

**

**(A.N. I don't know about yooze guys, but I always had pretty useless guidance counselors when I was a kid, hence giving Will one too. LoL Mine, especially the one in high school, always did the same thing like Will's, every time I went to see them. I really DON'T know how or why the one in high school managed to slip through the cracks of the occupational system and landed a job as a supposed-to-be positive harbinger of what's to come for your possible academic future, I swear. Sigh. LoL Hope he's changed occupations by now, or at least has had a huge cup of life-awakening coffee to help stir his soul once more. Meh. LoL**

**Anyhow! Poor Willsers, unraveling more and more like that. LoL Don't you just 'love' that, whenever people make suggestions like Caleb's, and suddenly people or things you never once thought of, you're now all "Oooh, maybe I DO like them/it!"? That's happened to me God knows how many times when I was a kid, for sure. LoL And then next I knew, what started out as an influence based upon pure suggestion, blossomed into actual like-like, and I was stuck digging a bunch of guys who either didn't like me back, or who weren't honestly my type normally. LoL Thank God adolescence is over, and I've got my hubby-bubby to focus on now. =) **

**ANYWAY! DOES Will like Matt now, or will start to? Who knows? Oh, wait. I do! LoL Will her apparently newfound self-consciousness whenever around him last? I know that one too! LoL Can't answer those, but I can say that perhaps Will's most recent desire just may be answered very, very, VERY soon! HeHe**

**But, yeah! 'Till then, do da review thing, giggle-snort away at this chapter and/or her generally ongoing plight, and stay tuned for the much longer chapter fitty-one! Yes, I said 'fitty-one.' Was watching King of the Hill earlier. HeHe See ya, my lovelies and thankies for the ongoing, massive support as always!)**


	52. Chapter Fifty One

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. - I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _Nothing like having random tunes (although mainly "We Are W.I.T.C.H.") playing repeatedly within the background to help lull the silence while you type type type away. HeHe Anyhow! _Y_ayyy, I'm back! For now, I guess! LoL As I've been telling the pretty substantial amount of people who've been so kind and sweet enough to send me PMs, asking not where I've been, but also how I've been, I've been doing just fine lately, I suppose, thanks! Just been keeping and being rather busy with working on my new fantasy book, which has pretty much monopolized a great portion of my time, as I've been making sure to remain pretty vigilant about focusing upon it rather than my fics, in terms of recent updates. _

_Which, of course, is why there haven't been all too many, even though I have thought about it, and still have all of my chapter outlines for each ready to go and such, of course. But since I've recently found a small window of extra time to do both (working on the book and my fics, that is), I took advantage of it and decided to update this particular story, rather than my 'Reloaded' fic, as originally intended. (I'm STILL feeling pretty burned out by the whopper seventy-nine pager Act 4 had turned out to be, so I suppose I'm shying away from actively sitting down to pop another, most likely just as long chapter for it for just a teeny bit longer. LoL)_

_I'd owed you readers to this one an update ages ago, anyhow, so now, I'm simply paying my dues. HeHe_

_I simply hope you'll all enjoy it!_

_And, as always, thank you so so SO much for your continued support and patience with me throughout the years to get my chapters out there for my various stories – It, just as always, means the world to me. =)_

_(And speaking of, and this story, wanna hear something neat I'd just discovered the other day, when I needed to pull up this story real quick for a reference reminder? If you type in the story's name into Google, a suggestion of "The Royal Guardian witch" will appear, and it's actually about mine. =) How neat is that? Well, maybe not all that neat to any of you, but it sure as heck was to me to realize. LoL You guys like this story that much that it's generated that much attention, so thank you very very much, again, my sweet peas!_

_Oh, right! And another thing! Thanks for a good majority of you always looking forward to even my random Author's Notes I'll leave, actually reading both the beginning and ending ones, AND, for whatever reason, finding it either adorable or amusing. LoL I'm flattered that my random 'cookiness' pleasures you so. =) LoL)_

* * *

This chapter was created in October 2010, and written/completed in May 2011.

* * *

**Chapter Fifty One**

**Saturday, November 11th, 12:20 am**

**"My Bedroom" Inside of the Presidential Suite of the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel **

I really ought to be asleep, or _trying_ to sleep, anyhow, after the long, chaotic day that I've had (which isn't really anything new, as of late), but after the _evening_ I'd had, and have only _just_ settled in (even though we'd returned to the Plaza from _Le Beau __Expérience_ about an _hour_ ago or so), my mind is absolutely wired.

Even though it was just about the _last_ way I'd wanted the spend my Friday evening, like I'd said before, at least I'd managed to _survive_ it.

And, in truth . . . it wasn't honestly _as_ horrific as I'd thought it'd be. . . .

But I'm getting ahead of myself, as usual, I know.

First, let us do our usual 'rewind effect' and cover all that'd happened before my admittedly _nerve-wracking_, first official night out as a princess (and good Lord, was it ever nerve-wracking, for a multitude of reasons . . . but, er, I'm jumping ahead again, sorry). . . .

**● Immediately After School**

Because of all of the snowfall we'd experienced, a good chunk of our school's After-school Programs, clubs and what not had been canceled today, which meant that _another_ good chunk of my fellow students were free to go home on time . . . including the girls.

Now, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, of course. I mean, after all, we all haven't honestly gotten the chance to truly hang out together for a little while . . . well, of the non-Guardian business variety, anyhow.

And so I really wouldn't have minded hanging out for a little bit, especially in light of what was awaiting me later on tonight.

But I was still rather hesitant, since everyone, even _Cornelia_, surprisingly, as well as the thankfully pretty chipper Taranee (as she had been all day, or at least whenever I'd gotten to see her, that is), all seemed rather enthused to the idea of spending some quality time with one another . . . but _also_ with their respective, significant others thrown into the mix. . . .

And then, to make matters worse, Irma had to go and suggest that we all congregate at the flippin' _Plaza_, of all places, as she and the other girls slowly gathered around me, a bit expectantly (well, not Cornelia, of course, who had just then let out a rather colorfully timed snort to the Water Guardian's idea, again, of _course_) just outside the front entrance to the school, while Caleb, Eric, Matt, and Nigel could be seen casually chatting it up with one another off to the side in the near distance.

I may have wanted to do the bonding thing with my fellow Guardian Gals (even if a certain Guardian of Earth may not have wanted to do the same where _I_ was concerned, perhaps), sure, but to do so, surrounded by hotel staff, royal bodyguards of both my own as _well_ as the extended Royal Family nature, _and_ my ever watchful uncle lurking about within the nearby shadows the entire time?

_And_ also with my ex-love and kinda-sorta _present_ love (unfortunately) both present throughout all of this?

Nooo, no no.

I'm thinking _not_.

It was bad enough that it seemed to be pretty much unanimous with the rest of the group that the full lot of us would be doing something together, _one_ way or another, that snowy afternoon, and that I would most likely have to endure constant, not-so-secret stares of wonder from Caleb while Matt and I chatted away about this and that amongst our overall posse.

And since it seems as though that that infuriating ignoramus would forever believe that I'm still head over heels in love with my ex-boyfriend, thanks to that damnable, he-should've-totally-gotten-it-was-about-_him_ (although if he honestly _had_, again, as I'd written before, I would have completely freaked out all the _more,_ and would have to transfer schools by now) poem of mine, at the very least I was going to make sure that I could control the environment wherein the never-ending embarrassment of the overall situation would occur.

So, after having allowed Irma to chuckle and grin at me like the Cheshire-freaking-cat after her half joking, half serious proposition, I was about to recommend we go somewhere, _anywhere_ else, when Hay Lin, bless her, intervened before I could.

"Well, while I'm pretty sure that it definitely couldn't come anywhere near close to compare with the lavish, expensive décor of Princess Will's suite, we all _could_ always just do the usual, and go to 'The Silver Dragon' for a bit to kill time, and maybe have a warm bite to eat there while we're at it," she stated with one of her usual, patented generous smiles, particularly upon fleetingly catching my expression of not-so-subtle gratitude flickering upon my regrettably reddening face.

And, much to my added delight, none of the other girls seemed all too bothered by the sudden change in would-be scenery, as it were, especially once the prospect of grabbing a delicious (and usually _free,_ in our case), piping hot meal while doing our 'togetherness' trip was put onto the table.

Even the men of our overall group seemed inclined to agree, even though they had tuned in late to our discussion, once the four of them had just then walked up to us, with Matt, pretty much as usual, leading the way.

"What's this I hear about a yum-yum dish? Count me _definitely_ in, even more!" he spoke with an amused smirk as he approached, wedging himself in between Taranee and myself before, most regrettably, slinking each of his strong arms around both of our waists.

Really?

_REALLY?_

I mean, not like he hasn't done _some_ type of touchy-feely thing as that with any one of us, either in private or as a group, within the past.

_Hell_, he's even done "bold" stuff like that right in front of our, er, the _others_' boyfriends, as well . . . like _now_, for example. At least, within the case of Taranee, anyhow.

And then, most of the time, there'll just be nervous laughter, faint blushing, and even light roughhousing from the men involved.

No harm, no foul.

But, not _this_ time!

Oh, my _God!_ Did he _have_ to do that _right_ when Caleb had taken his own chosen place (with no real surprise, for obvious reasons) at Cornelia's side, right across from the three of us?

And, of _course_, Caleb just _had_ to be doing what I'd already expected and feared for him to do, most probably throughout the full course of our shared outing, _staring_, quite observantly at that, at the display!

You think he could have at _least_ cut me some slack and just chosen either to ignore it (as he honestly usually seemed to do all the time in the past, or at least didn't really bat so much of an eyelash toward Matt and myself when and if he'd be present to see the young musician being a typical goof), or maybe even laugh it off like pretty much everyone _else!_

Even freaking _Cornelia_ did, well, _sort_ of, anyway.

I saw her give this brief, sort of stiff, yet laughter-mimicking emission for about three seconds, before promptly shifting her attention onto her boyfriend, naturally, although gazing up at him with curiously shy eyes.

Well, it isn't honestly all _that_ "curious," of course, I mean . . . _you_ know . . . all things now unfortunately considered between the two of them. . . .

Ugh.

Moving on, quickly, please!

_Anyway!_

My _point_, to that supremely large rant (although nothing really new for me, there, I know) is that we hadn't even made it to our newfound, intended destination yet, and _already_ I was suffering immensely within the humiliation department!

_Geez_, Heavens Above!

Cut a girl some _slack!_

I mean, at _least_ wait until I'm stuck inside of _The Silver Dragon_, surrounded by food with which to spill upon myself or choke upon, or what have you!

Oh, wait.

That _did_ end up happening.

Well, not the spillage, thankfully (since my overall outfit for this particular school day was, just like the others before it, extremely expensive, I'm sure), _or_ the choking on anything, just as thankfully.

I was mainly referring to the continued onset of discomfort and overall abashment, really.

But, once again, I'm pressing down upon the shuffle button, here.

One key note of mortification at a time, right?

So, _anyway_, I'm now incredibly tensed up and trying desperately to keep my already out of control blushing, I could then feel, growing even more so, while 'Ranee's busy doing her usual shy smiling and polite acceptance to Matt's a bit over the top flirtatious antics, and Nigel's playfully kicking his friend and fellow musician within the ass, I could just make out within the corner of my eye.

And only after having gotten walloped within the derriere two more times from the young, burgundy haired fellow did Matthew let go of us both, before proceeding to use his now free hands to gingerly caress his previously attacked posterior.

". . . . U-Um, _anyhow_, not that eating at T.S.D. doesn't sound good, Hay Lin, because it does, but I thought that you'd told me earlier this morning that it was going to be closed for the weekend, so that your parents could fix the faulty ceiling the restaurant now has, what with all the snow we'd gotten?" the Fire Guardian posed within inquiry, a bit _too_ softly for any of our ears' liking, clearly still feeling a bit timid from the previous "Grab Fest" having been conducted by someone other than her own main squeeze, I'm sure (although, again I will say that this was pretty much the first in a little while that I'd seen both Taranee _and_ Nigel together within the same area, which is why I'd momentarily surmised that maybe the thing which seemed to have her so preoccupied lately and what she'd probably wanted to try to get together with me some time for was about the two of them having broken up . . . but they didn't seem to be within dire straits throughout the majority of our shared luncheon, so I guess _that_ theory's out of the window now).

Meanwhile, I was doing my _own_ best to play it cool, as I allowed the group's collective attention to then thankfully settle back onto Hay Lin as she responded, and I began to carefully distance myself from Matt with as much tact and discreetness as I could possibly muster.

"That is still true, yeah, Taranee, and _unfortunately_ so, since the weekends are always one of our most busy occasions at the restaurant, as you all know," the traditionally happy, pigtailed girl began with a nod, blindly settling into Eric's oncoming embrace from behind just then, before she continued with, "but the damage isn't all _that_ severe, to the point where mounds of snow would fall through the roof at any given moment or anything like that. And it's only towards the front, left hand side of the building, too, which none of us generally tend to sit within, anyhow - As we seem to prefer eating nearest the kitchen, I've noticed. My dad already made sure to seal off that particular area, anyhow, so since me and Caleb have the spare keys to the place, naturally, it's a done deal! Food, fun, friends, and lots and _lots_ of privacy for the Princess!"

Annnd, once again, all eyes were back onto _me_, almost immediately.

I know that Hay Lin was only trying to help reassure me, since I honestly was (and always do now, sadly) thinking about whether or not I could honestly go with them, without bringing a large string of "Paparazzi Parasites" along with me, especially since I was already then beginning to see a small, but fast growing collection huddling up together for warmth, as well as anticipation, across the street from the school's entrance where we all continued to stand (since they're not allowed to be directly upon school grounds in order to harass me further. They're not actually allowed to even hang about where that particular few currently were, either, technically speaking, since it's still a part of the overall school district, or some mumbo jumbo like that. But, hey. They're the Paparazzi; it's honestly a miracle that they've _so_ far managed to "respect" the rules, and haven't come barreling into one of my classes by now).

But did she _have_ to hand the proverbial ball back to me so soon, and right when I was within the middle of doing all that I could to be inconspicuous with my side-stepping away from Matt, who just had to then look upon me with a former gaze of consensus to what the bubbly young woman had stated, before it promptly shifted into one of surprise at the curious and unexpected distance between the two of us.

And you'd think that he could have at least left it at that, with just a mere facial expression of perplexity.

Maybe within an alternate universe, perhaps, because of _course_, he's all, "Where do ya think _you're_ going, Your Loveliness? Our chariot awaits! To 'The Silver Dragon,' everyone!" with a warm grin upon his stupid little face as he once more seized me with both arms, and led the way towards my already awaiting, equally stupid white limousine just on the other side of the school's front gates.

It really _is_ a shame that the limo's tires _and_ the driver are both well prepared for such inclement weather, as previously stated within my other entry, Journal, because I definitely would have been just fine if a sudden loss of control had occurred and all nine of us . . . er, _twelve_, if you count the driver, Ernest and Nova, of course, met an untimely, grizzly end.

Because being stuck within that blasted, overly fancy vehicle, yet again with my friends (and this time with the latest additions of Nigel, Eric and Matt, who all three acted like sugar-infused little children within an amusement park, what with their constant switching of their originally chosen seats every three minutes or so, and touching, lifting, and pressing every last device they could find in there. Although, I _will_ admit that Eric's pretty frequent "Oooh, _shiny!_" exclamations at whatever new contraption he'd discover during our twenty-two minute drive over to the Lin's family restaurant was pretty adorable, since it reminded me a lot of the very first time he'd laid eyes upon Hay Lin's former braces back in middle school. I can't believe she actually thought that that ridiculously sweet boy would _ever_ think ill of her in any sort of way . . . even if she _had_ been full of despair at the time, thanks to having believed that her grandma, Yan Lin had betrayed all of us and joined Nerissa's forces, but still) was just plain overkill, with no kinda-pun intended!

_Somehow_, though, I _did_ manage to survive, in more ways than one, including ignoring every last urge I had to take a peek from time to time within the corner of my eye to see if Caleb was still doing his observing thing whenever Matt would go back to his original spot next to me within the limo.

I was honestly too busy feeling more so embarrassed, yet also admittedly a bit amused by the fact that each time the three male newcomers to the inside of "my" limousine would play musical chairs with one another, more often than not they (well, mainly Matt and Nigel, since Eric usually has a lot more public respect and courtesy of mind between just the three of them, if you're not counting Caleb amongst them, anyway) would also do so by literally climbing over, even at times momentarily _sitting_ on top of either Nova, Ernest, or the both of them at once.

I could only imagine what the two of them were thinking, although I'm sure it was probably somewhere along the lines of, _We seriously __don't__ get paid enough for this, I swear to God. . . ._

But I still did have a pretty good idea, judging by each of their "curiously" tight-lipped grimaces I could make out, even within the slight darkness of the vehicle's interior, as well as their traditionally kept on sunglasses which masks away most of their faces, as usual.

I was expecting Nova, at least, since we all know by now that _Ernest_ doesn't say a damned thing, not even to save his own life, I'll bet, to speak up and maybe even tell one, if not all three of them off.

But it was almost like the one or both of them were afraid that if they _did_ attempt at opening up their mouths, even for a moment, every word which would then come out would do so within a horribly disastrous, potentially-worthy-of-losing-their-job kind of way.

I guess they just figured that the ride wouldn't be that long, anyhow, and so it was just better to suck it up, and look forward to putting some renewed, most likely now _treasured_ physical distance between all of us and themselves.

At _any_ rate, we finally get to _The Silver Dragon_, which looked every bit as closed as Hay Lin had been previously stating prior to our unified trek over there, and we're all piling out, with Cornelia and Caleb taking lead this time around, while everyone else followed and _I_ was regrettably the "meat" within the typical Ernest and Nova sandwich thing the two of them do at all waking hours the three of us have had the joy of being together.

But at least, just this once, it was slightly welcomed, since I nearly jumped out of my skin within sheer surprise, thanks to the newfound gaggle of Photags which suddenly appeared from around the corner, to the right of the closed restaurant's entrance, and immediately began taking picture after picture of not just myself, but of _all_ of us.

I mean, _what_, did these annoying people have _bugs_ set up around campus so that they could easily listen in upon any and all discussions I may have with my friends and our impending whereabouts, and then meet up with us there later on, while simultaneously giving "their fellow man" the head's up about it?

As irritating as all of that was, especially with now having to deal with the added company of these crazy loons, who would undoubtedly stay outside of the building "for as long as it takes, until we get what we came here for," I'm pretty positive about their kind now, that wasn't what had been at the forefront of my mind in that moment.

No.

I'm sure some, if not all of the Paparazzi I've seen tailing after me since my official debut as a princess, have most likely accumulated a decently sized collection of the girls and even the guys, as well, whenever we'd all be outside together, like earlier, or even the other day before heading over to Metamoor to see Elyon.

But it _still_ burned me up inside to realize this.

I mean, it was one thing to do it to _me_, since, well, I honestly don't have much control over that, and it basically comes with the newfound territory.

But it just makes me feel all the _more_ violated and helpless that now, by extension, the lives of all of my _friends_ are forever changed, as well, thanks to my greatly unwanted royal heritage.

At the very least, though, none of them have yet to reveal that they've been approached by some sleazy reporter for the scoop on me or anything like that, nor have there been any special news coverage about any of the girls and the others . . . I don't _think_, anyway, since I've been doing my best to avoid watching, listening to, or reading the news from here on out.

I was then beginning to feel that deciding to go along on this little outing, no matter how much I may have wanted to, was a bad idea because of all of these newfound burdens, and so I pretty much said as much after the rest of us and, of course, myself were hurriedly ushered inside of the empty, now alight restaurant.

". . . . U-Um, I-I'm . . . really, _really_ sorry about all of this, you guys," I started within blatant awkwardness, especially at the added fact that my apology was at that moment being accompanied by a rousing chorus of erupting flashing bulbs, one after the other, from outside of the establishment's door from behind me, courtesy of the ravenous photographers who were then frantically trying to capture the most perfect shot of me to plaster all over the front page of whatever newspaper or online blog they worked for.

I kept feeling my shoulders tensing up within perfect precision to each clicking and loud snapping or popping sounds those damned cameras were emitting, before Ernest was at last able to put both his brawny stature, as well as extensive bodyguard training or whatever you call it to good use by roughly shoving all seven of the Paparazzi present at that time (that I'd managed to count when I couldn't resist turning around to see all of the commotion of high pitched wails and "Hey, come _on_, man!"'s coming from most of them, even though doing so, my turning around, that is, probably awarded at least one of them, a good head shot of me, as a result of my stupid curiosity) completely clear of the front doorway and straight onto the corner of the snowy, wet street, right with the _rest_ of the garbage.

And I gotta say that that was pretty much the very first, honest time that I didn't lament having round the clock protectors of this variety.

Well, not _greatly_ lament it as I usually do, anyway.

After that pretty chaotic display, and Ernest had managed to quickly squeeze through the door that Nova was hurriedly already closing (with or _without_ him inside, it seemed like, judging by her no nonsense demeanor, which pretty much mirrored that of Ernest's, as well, in those charged up few moments) before the clearly dazed pile of nuisances were able to recover and start round two of their onslaught of picture taking, the only one of us able to snap out of our unanimous, stunned shock was Irma, although with no real surprise.

"_Eeeeyeah-heh-heh!_ _That's_ what I'm talkin' about! 'Ya gotta know when to hold 'em, and know when to _fold_ 'em!'" she gushed within exuberant approval, pumping her left fist into the air while standing nearest the greeting area of the restaurant, with a sighing Taranee directly at her side. "Just do me a favor, and don't be as rough with _me_ - Or, ya know, at _all_, would also be nice, too - once my radio show really takes off within the near future - Hint, _hint_ - and I'm trying to schedule frequent appearances with Her Highness, okay? _Still!_ Good lookin' out, my man - _And_ lady! I _gotta_ be sure to get _myself_ someone just as competent as the both of you when the time comes! Er . . . well you know what I mean by that!"

And then, after an assorted mixture of groans of exasperation, as well as chuckles towards the traditionally captivating brunette's enthusiasm towards a job well done where _she_ was concerned (in addition to earning what I could have _sworn_ were faint smirks slowly creeping upon the corners of both Nova's, and even _Ernest's_ faces when I looked at them within honest appreciation a moment as I moved further inside of _The Silver Dragon_, before their now quite familiar, stoic expressions effortlessly replaced any such positiveness), I hesitantly recaptured the unanimous attention of the overall group, as I once again attempted to seek forgiveness for the unfortunate calamity.

"Um . . . _r-right_. . . . B-But, again, _seriously_, everyone, I really _am_ sorry for the . . . well, _brouhaha_ carrying on outside like that, and -"

"- '_Brouhaha?_' I guess those royal lessons Matty's been telling me you've been taking now are really paying off, there, 'Willmeister,'" Nigel abruptly interjected with a small smile and quick wink of amusement, before moving from his place next to the Bucket Hat wearing _doofus_ in question, who was now standing closest to the swinging doors of the back kitchen, and made his way to the front of the restaurant to be closer to Taranee . . . who, curiously so, I did manage to catch, did not seem _too_ thrilled by that, as her entire demeanor then tensed up and her smooth, caramel colored cheeks instantly turned a whole shade darker within obvious abashment.

Which, to be honest, I didn't get.

I mean, if anything, _I_ should have been the one to have grown all the more embarrassed than I was already, what with the crazy Paparazzi having previously attempted a game of Leap Frog with Ernest, just to get a good shot of me, and then now Nigel's cheeky little 'she's suddenly extra cultured now, just as a princess _should_ be!' kind of comment, there.

And if he wasn't a friend, Taranee's boyfriend, nor one of _many_ to have already made similar jokes or what have you of how I'm most likely more refined, or soon would be because of who I now am (or, thanks to Eli's fierce "coaxing," as it were, am slowly turning into), I probably would've gotten immediately offended by it.

I mean, like it's such a stretch that I'd know such a not too commonly used word (well, not within _our_ shared, particular age range, anyhow . . . that I'm aware of, at least), even if I personally haven't honestly used it much before now, if at all.

I _have_ been busy trying to expand my vocabulary, after all, long before this whole, "Surprise! You're a princess!" package was dropped onto me. And I think I've been doing fairly well at it (the succeeding with a much more broader vocabulary bit, that is, not the being a princess and handling it well kick).

But, whatever.

I was still far more preoccupied with figuring out how to properly excuse myself from the get together, sacrificing any potential fun I might have had if I stayed so that the rest of them could better enjoy themselves, without having to worry about the incessant _locusts_ which were the Photags.

Plus, I was also now pretty curious about Taranee's shying away number she'd played right when Nigel came 'round, as well.

Maybe things really _are_ a bit messed up between them, like I'd originally thought? Neither of them really seemed all _too_ preoccupied, themselves, throughout the course of our hour and a half with one another that afternoon.

That is, both of them would speak, comment, ask, or laugh a bit about various things accordingly with ease, from what I could tell, at least . . . although they _did_ opt out of sitting next to or even across from one another later on, I did notice.

But that isn't a _super_ super big deal, right?

I mean, there are _loads_ of times when Matt and I hadn't always sat near one another whenever we were within a group setting like this, I can recall . . . but, then again, we _did_ end up eventually calling it quits, as well. . . .

_Still!_

I'm pretty sure that that _isn't_ the case with Taranee and Nigel, you know?

Things are still "smoking hot" between them, as far as I'm aware . . . although I do remember seeing a few times where one or the both of them looked a bit forlorn and drifting off into space, during the times when they weren't speaking. . . .

_Ugh!_

I don't know why it's so hard for me to just outright _ask_ questions about things, rather than continue to _speculate!_

At _this_ rate, I'd make a great addition to Irma's crew on her radio show, since they, well, the Grumper Sisters, mainly, anyway, usually have a strong habit of doing the same, themselves.

Bleh.

But I don't want to be too nosy and make 'Ranee _paranoid_ with my inquiries of doubt and such, lest _she_ start to believe that perhaps Nigel _is_ secretly thinking along the same lines or whatever.

And we _all_ know how pretty jumpy and worrisome T can get. . . .

Damn it.

I'll figure it out, Journal, no worries.

I promised myself (and to the rest of the girls too, kinda, I guess) that I wouldn't let my being a princess get in the way of my more _important_ duties, as far as I'm concerned, of continuing to be a good friend, and I intend to keep it.

Until such time, though (that is, of finally, _finally_ finding a way to get to the bottom of what may or may _not_ be going on between Nigel and Taranee), there is still the matter of finishing up what happened here at _The Silver Dragon_, before regrettably focusing upon my "family dinner" (if you can honestly call it that, since _most_ family dinners I know of never involved having an audience and flash photography going on outside while you tried to finish your meal in relative peace) once again. . . .

So, anyhow, after Nige's little comment and such, I'm about to speak up about it when Hay Lin swoops in out of nowhere (I say nowhere, because I honestly hadn't noticed she wasn't within the main area until she suddenly popped up like that. I guess she must have already made her way towards the kitchen after everyone made it inside), rushes over to the front of the restaurant and goes, "No worries about a thing! That's why there's this thing called '_Shutters_,' you see, for moments just like this . . . well, maybe not _just_ like this, because I mean, how often are you within the presence of _royalty_ and are getting harassed by bloodthirsty Pap -"

"- J-Just close the shutters, honey," Eric tactfully interrupted with a warm smile towards his babbling girlfriend, who returned the simper with a sheepish one of her own, before he moved over to the other side of the establishment to close the rest of the blinds. "I'm surprised you guys forgot to close them after closing up shop the other night, like you usually do."

"Er . . . right. That was actually _my_ fault, Eric. . . . I was in a rush to . . . be somewhere else," Caleb suddenly pipes up at his place in between a continually silent Cornelia, and the second row of a six-person table closest to the front entrance.

For some reason, as he revealed his apparent foul up, both his _and_ Cornelia's cheeks instantly became inflamed, before they curiously moved away from one another ever so slightly.

Wait.

I don't know why I said "for some reason."

I already know why, just like Irma and Hay Lin . . . and maybe Taranee do by now, I don't know.

That was most likely the evening when he and his future bride went to get a little early practice for their wedding night. . . .

_God_.

Every time you try to block something out and move on from it, something always pulls you back in, I swear. . . .

As disgusting as it had been to reflect upon at the time, of course, now that I'm writing it down and remembering it . . . I don't know.

I mean, it still is _supremely_ gross to know about or at least hear rumors about your friends' so called sexual escapades, hands down, whether you may have romantic feelings for one of them or not.

But, I guess maybe I really _am_ blocking it all out already, or at least the heart-wrenching feelings involved, anyhow.

Or, maybe I'm just still too pumped up from the day's overall events to really stop and linger over their maybe/maybe not moment, not sure.

Either way, for now, at least, I'll take it.

So, from that point on up until the time, around fifteen to twenty minutes or so, when Hay Lin, Eric, and Caleb all helped to bring out some of the leftover and even new food they'd quickly made to serve the bulk of us there, everyone just sort of broke off into tiny chattering groups, really.

Which was great for me, because things actually felt relatively . . . _normal_ for a change. Like I was still just simple Will Vandom, high school senior, you know?

And since we were thankfully sealed off from any further prying eyes of the devilish Paparazzi (which you could still hear hooting and hollering on and off outside, although their bitching and moaning was tapered off a bit once Cornelia had gone in the back to turn on the CD player for the soft background music which usually played during open hours), it only further added to the illusion.

Well, except for the times when I'd gone to the restroom to relieve myself or wash my hands, and Nova followed me in, of course . . . because then her presence (which was definitely unnecessary, since the whole place was empty and closed off to the public, but hey. She wouldn't listen . . . never does, actually, but you get me), coupled by taking a look at myself within the mirror to see myself still just as gussied up as I had been when I woke up this morning for class only ended up reminding me all over again that, _"Oh, right. You're someone 'special' now! Yay!"_

In any event, I was actually starting to relax and have a pretty good time, waiting with everyone else to eat and all that, when Matt managed to scare the crap out of me when he suddenly wrapped his arms around me from behind, all affectionate like.

It's a good thing that I had just gotten off of the Greeter's stool that either Hay Lin, Caleb, or someone else amongst the Lin's staff usually sat at whenever waiting to seat newcomers, or else I would have completely fallen over and taken him _with_ me.

And seeing as I was pretty much "forgotten" by most everyone there by that moment, at least, the last thing I wanted was a return to the spotlight (which Irma, of course, was currently monopolizing over on the other side of the restaurant, I could see, with whatever new gossip tale she was telling to a laughing Nigel, while Taranee and Cornelia quietly chatted off to the side near them).

"Holy Hell, _Matt!_ Don't - _Do_ - That!" I scolded, promptly after my heart had vacated my throat and gone back into my chest where it belonged. I was beginning to frown by that point . . . that is, up until Matt had moved around to the front of me and smiled warmly down at me.

_Then_ I started to immediately feel my scowl effortlessly falter, while the back of my neck was beginning to grow warm.

Cripes.

Here we go again!

_He doesn't like me! He doesn't like me! He doesn't like me! _I found myself quickly chanting over and over in my head, especially once Matt took a step closer to me and rested both of his hands on either side of my shoulders.

It's a good freaking thing that Caleb was still busy inside of the kitchen with his "sister" and Eric at that particular moment, or else I would have probably opted to take my chances back outside with the still lurking Paparazzi, rather than remain there to endure any sort of renewed mortification his having seen Matt and I together like that would undoubtedly bring.

And what a time for Ernest and Nova _not_ to act all bodyguard-ish, too!

Well, _Ernest_, anyway, since he's "known" Matt the longest between the two of them.

I mean, true, by now, they're a teeny bit more . . . tolerant, I suppose you can say, about Matt and his being around me, since it's clear that _yes_, he _is_ one of my friends, and _yes_, he _can_ be trusted (although I definitely gotta say that Eric, and especially Nigel lucked out in that department, since this was pretty much our first outing together since I'd become royalty, and neither of _them_ were given the third degree the way Matt had been not too long ago. But, then again, neither boy had been found alone with me within my bedroom over at the loft, either . . . but, _anyway!_).

But it would have been welcomed, just this once, mind, to have them come pouncing onto the both of us and put _more_ than just a bit of distance between us right about now!

Nope.

They were too busy indulging within the hot pot of green tea and almond cookies that Hay Lin had made sure to bring out to them firsthand before doing anything else, while the two sat at their chosen booth within the far left hand corner of the restaurant, closest to the "quarantined" area (which really wasn't all that bad, from what I could personally tell, anyway. The ceiling, I mean. Had a few water spots here and there, sure, but nothing _too_ major, visibly, at least. But, hey. Better safe than sorry, I suppose)!

What a fine time to show signs of actual _humanity_. . . .

So, I'm looking behind myself towards them, anyway, thinking maybe they'd at _least_ give a grunt or gander our way, but _nothing_.

Just kept right on sipping their precious tea, and munching on their damned cookies.

_Oookay . . . I'm on my own, then. Just play it cool, and __relax__ already, Will! He __doesn't__ like you!_ I silently reminded myself once more, before nervously clearing my throat. (Damn it.)

"Aww, come on! You used to just smile and giggle with glee whenever I'd do junk like that while we were together," Matt commented within reflection with a slow grin, causing my nerves to grow all the more jumbled up inside.

Trying my best to seem unaffected (fat _chance_), I let out a (rather exaggerated, I will admit) loud scoff before gently pushing against his chest and moving around him to face the other direction.

"Y-Yeah, well, _tough!_ That was then, and this is _now_, so get over it," I replied as nonchalantly as I could, with an added, light frown and folding of my arms over my chest as a bonus, to boot. (Go, me!)

Matt, however, didn't seem at all bothered by my slightly negative attitude (although he generally never really is, the damned, imitation-_Hippie_), as he merely let out a small chuckle before reaching up to take off his white colored Bucket Hat.

And ya know, I actually had a fleeting imagine, I'm sad to admit, Journal, of him getting down on one knee to propose _marriage_ to me, or something, when he did that?

I _know!_

I'm _super_ lame, I get it.

But, can you blame me? I was a nervous wreck in that particular moment, so I was liable to think or imagine _anything!_

_Anyway_, so Matt does that, and he's all, "'Get over it,' she says. Maybe I will . . . _someday_," all forlornly and crap, which I should have immediately recognized to be just a joke (and I normally can, again, under normal circumstances), but I was feeling that much more sick inside.

I was about to, knowing me, say something _supremely_ stupid to that, which probably would have made things worse, when he thankfully and unknowingly saved me, when he just continued on.

"_Until_ then, however, how about you help me out with something, instead, Doll?" he asked with a renewed smile upon his rugged face (_Ack! _Why am I bothering to get so detailed upon his physical appearance and "cuteness?" Good Lord, I really _do_ hate you, the power of suggestion!), before stepping closer to me once again. "Do you think you can manage that for me, Princess?"

And, okay.

I know that he was actually calling me "Princess" there, like my official title and stuff.

Well, I know _now_, anyway, more so than in that moment.

But, seriously, _in_ that moment, indeed, I was thinking, _Oh, my God! He's laying it on thick with all these new pet names! Now I'm his '__Princess__,' too? This is getting __way__ out of hand!_

How slow _am_ I, really?

Thank goodness it's the weekend now, is all I gotta say, Journal.

My mushy brain and frazzled nerves can _use_ the recuperation. . . .

So, I'm busy thinking this, like a nimrod, _again_, I'll say, and am about to choke out some feeble response, but all I can manage is a tiny, pitiful sort of nod within compliance, before Matt promptly wrapped his right arm around me and began to direct us both closer to the front entrance.

Annnnd, of _course_, that was when I could see freaking _Caleb_ coming out of the kitchen before Hay Lin also had in the distance, the two of them carefully toting piping hot, silver trays of what looked like chicken and broccoli, and sweet and sour chicken to place within the previously empty buffet area within the middle of the restaurant.

Annnnd, wouldn't you know it, that of _course_ his eyes locked with mine, pretty much immediately, seemed like, out of everyone _else_ within the room he could have done that with instead?

In the past, I would have been all a-twitter about something like that, and gone further off the deep end within my grand delusions of how it was just another sign from Fate that we were meant to be together, or _something_, I don't know.

In _that_ moment, however, I was thinking anything _but_.

I was already feeling super horrified, having to be so close to Matt in that way and monopolizing his attention without even trying (or _wanting_ to, in truth), and _now_ I had to deal with Caleb becoming so enthralled by our "togetherness," that he actually _slowed down_ his pace on his way to the buffet station.

_So_ much so that he nearly caused Hay Lin to ram right into him and spill the entire batch of sweet and sour chicken all over the floor, before she quickly side-stepped him in time.

I could just barely make out her asking if he was all right, looking up at him with a look of confusion, before continuing on her way, and he gave a quick "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. . . ." in reply, before he, too, resumed his own serving duties and pretty much ignored Matt and me again.

Well, I _guess_ so, anyway, since, by that time, Matt had us completely turned around to look at . . . well, nothing, honestly, since the shutters were all closed.

Criminy, I bet you I know exactly what Caleb was thinking just then, too.

Probably some insufferable thing like, _Well, __that__ certainly didn't take the Princess very long to act upon my advice to tell Matt that she still loves him. Too bad they don't go get a room, though, so that the rest of us can eat in peace._

Sigh.

Why me, Journal?

Anyhow, I was honestly too caught up within my thoughts, and all that assorted worrying about Caleb this time around, that I wasn't even aware that Matt was speaking again that whole entire time.

That is, not until I suddenly felt him lightly pinch the side of my right arm he continued to cradle, and asked, with vague annoyance, "_Oi!_ Are you even _listening_ to me, woman?"

To which I'd responded, without much thinking for crafty censorship, "_H-Huh? _Oh, no. . . ."

I am telling you, I was coming with my A Game today, Journal, she writes with great sarcasm. . . .

"Well, _jeebus! _I know that nowadays one would have to possess either brown hair, _green_ eyes, or _both_ in order to properly capture your attention, Your Highness," I heard him begin with a gruff sigh, as I practically snapped my neck clear off my body, at the speed I'd turned my head to look up at him with embarrassed shock, at his open reference to Caleb (even if it had been said quietly, and maybe no one else except Hay Lin, of course, would have understood it, if we'd had other people standing near us just then), "and I know that I'm obviously lacking within the proper _eye shade_ department, anyway, but could you at least _humor_ me for a couple of minutes, here?"

Rather than feel continually nervous or worried that we could be overheard like before, I then began to feel guilty.

I was _already_ failing at my "Let's Continue to Be There For My Friends!" resolve, even though that was more along the lines of refusing to let my stupid title and "new lifestyle" getting within the way of that.

Still.

So, for the first time in that afternoon (well, since I've been interacting with him, anyway), I calmed myself down long enough to turn to face him properly and nodded earnestly.

". . . . You're right, Matt. I'm really sorry. I'm all ears," I apologized with a small smile, doing my best to resist the urge to take occasional peeks to the left of me, towards where Hay Lin, Caleb, and now Eric, continued to pop in and out of the kitchen doors with more food.

"_Thank_ you, then," Matt said within honest appreciation, before clearing his throat and continuing. "All right, so . . . I know this is probably gonna sound pretty weird, and almost out of _nowhere_, I'm sure . . . but what do you know about that girl . . . _Ryan_, I think?"

Okay, so yeah, even though I had chilled out a bit where wondering whether or not he loved me again, I did admittedly think that, based upon the beginning of his question, that Matt was going to ask me something like what I was doing over the weekend, before asking me to the movies or what have you.

But, I gotta say that I'm definitely relieved to hear that not only was that not even remotely the case, but the young lad was actually trying to gather information about _another_ girl, who . . . wait a second!

Did Matt just totally ask me about _Ryan?_

_Ryan_-Ryan?

_My_ Ryan, the one who's helping me with my Public Speaking speech, and would probably find a sudden hurricane coming to destroy the city to be a _good_ thing, what with her odd and sort of backwards personality?

_That_ Ryan?

Of all the females within our school or even _neighborhood_ whom Matt would ever show possible signs of interest within, I _never_ ever thought it'd be someone like her (although _anyone's_ always going to be infinitely better than stupid _Mary_, natch).

Well, granted, I _did_ say, in my other entry, that I thought she was honestly pretty interesting, and certainly unique, and I meant it.

And I _am_ jumping the gun a bit, here, too, in amusing that that's why Matt's even asking about her in the first place. But, then again, he never _was_ one to really go for the "flashy," super popular, and/or extra girly types, either, from what I'm aware of, anyway, based upon the occasional dates he's gone on since our break up.

And then, of course, there's Exhibit A, a.k.a. _yours truly_, as I am pretty much the furthest thing from "Bubblegum Sweetness" you could find . . . well, second to Ryan, it seems like, anyway.

Huh.

Maybe Matt really _could_ be into her, after all. . . .

I still don't honestly know, in truth, because after Matt said what he did, I was all, "Uhh . . . well, I honestly just mainly know _of_ her at present, Matt. We've never really spoken to one another during our Public Speaking class, and only truly did for the first time _today_. . . . Why do you ask?"

To this, it was _Matt's_ turn to seem a little bit flustered, as he quickly (although I'm sure he tried to do it casually, bless him) stuffed both of his hands into the pockets of his beige khaki pants and shrugged.

"Oh, what? Nah, no reason, really. Just that I've kinda seen her around campus on occasion - Which, you know, isn't all _that_ hard, what with that pink colored hair of hers - and just wondered. She _seems_ pretty cool, anyway."

I was about to try to investigate more upon the matter, when Hay Lin suddenly called out to everyone to come help ourselves to some lunch.

The only thing I could manage to quickly ask, before Matt conveniently parted ways with me (for the time being, anyhow), was how he even knew that I sort of knew Ryan, myself (especially since I've honestly never mentioned her before to him, or to anyone else, friend wise, really, since I've never had a reason to), and he fleetingly goes, "Huh? Ah, well that's _easy_, my dear: You're a _princess_ now. Everything and _anything_ having to do with you travels 'round the school halls pretty much at the same pace of _light speed_."

Wonderful.

So even the simple, pretty uneventful fact (to _me_, anyway) that Ryan and I are now partners, kinda, for my speech made front page news within the social community of our fellow peers?

Can _nothing_ pertaining to me stay private anymore?

But I guess I'm not all _that_ surprised, though.

I mean, I still _am_, kinda, because, again, that's just so stupid to want to know _every_ last detail of my "charmed" life, I think.

But, I mean, since it involves Ryan, who I'm sure has built up a reputation of being "that anti-social girl with the funky hair you should probably stay away from," coupled by the fact that "the Princess of Marsily was seen actually _socializing_ with her! What honorable _charity!_" or whatever, I suppose it makes a bit more sense that it _would_ be buzz-worthy.

_Sort_ of. . . .

Geez, I cannot wait until I graduate.

Well, at the very least, though, in consolation, it now seems that all of my worries about whether or not Matt still has feelings for me really _were_ unwarranted . . . I think.

_I_ don't know.

My head hurts.

The only thing I _do_ know is that I didn't really mind it when he'd chosen to sit next to me again, after the two of us had finished piling up our plates full of chicken, broccoli (well, _I_ did, anyway, since Matt says he can't stand the stuff), coconut shrimp and a few egg rolls.

That is, I _didn't_ so much, up until, of all places to sit (and there had been a few more unclaimed spots at that time, I might add, since everyone else was still busy getting their own food), Caleb plops himself right down in front of me, with Cornelia sat across from Matt.

I'd honestly forgotten the blonde was even _here_, since she, as far as I had been aware, anyway, hadn't been whinging about _something_ new the entire time we'd all been there up to that point, for once.

Then again, I _had_ been preoccupied with my "boy troubles," and she had been standing close to _Irma_ at one point, I remember, so you never know.

In any case, it was suddenly like I was on a double date gone, horribly, _horribly_ wrong.

How the hell was I supposed to eat in peace, or even _concentrate_ on eating now, with two of my _least_ favorite people lately sat right across from me?

I mean, what with the _one_ of them thinking about how I'm probably dying to make out with my ex-boyfriend this entire time, while the _other_ one's most likely wondering once more how someone like _me_ could have turned out to be a princess?

And it wasn't as though I could have gotten up and changed places, either, because then I might as well have just come right out and openly admitted, "I _hate_ that I'm still in love with _you_ and thus can't be around you, and I just plain hate _you_ lately, because of your poor attitude around me - Oh, and not to mention the fact that you managed to _sleep_ with him, damn it!" to the both of them at that rate.

Nope.

I was stuck.

And needless to say, I was swiftly losing my appetite by that point for it.

But that actually didn't seem to really matter, though, because even before I'd managed to force myself to pick up my fork and at least _attempt_ to shovel something down, all the while tactfully avoiding absolute eye contact from either one of the happy couple, I can feel Nova curiously tapping me gently upon my shoulder from behind (which was actually the very first time she's ever touched me, come to think of it. I mean, usually both she and Ernest act like I'm severely _diseased,_ and take great care to keep their distance from me, except maybe during our "sandwich-making" times, when they naturally have to be closer. But even then they still somehow always manage to play keep away with my body . . . eww. You know what I mean! I guess that the tea and cookies really hit the spot or something, to the point of her actually forgetting herself and her training or whatever, then).

"Apologies, Your Highness, however do recall to take care in being mindful of the elapsing time; it perhaps would not be so wise as to ingest a large meal at present, either, if I may say so," she spoke quietly to me, after I'd turned within my chair to properly address her.

Sigh.

I had been wondering when she would do that, anyway.

I mean, spoil my good time, that is, like the both of my bodyguards manage to do just by their mere presence, really.

I honestly thought that Nova would have been all huffy and puffy, right from the start, about my wanting to go hang out with my friends before I had to report back to the stupid Plaza for my undoubted _evening_ makeover session this time around.

But when she never did, and remained silent all this time, up until now, anyway, I actually managed to forget about it for just a little bit.

Now, however, it was back, full force within my mind.

I was hoping that no one else managed to hear Nova's words, as I'd nodded and gave a quick "Okay, thank you!" in response before more or else shooing her away when I'd turned back around within my seat . . . no such luck, though.

Having momentarily forgotten myself and who was sitting across from me within that previous commotion, I stupidly looked straight ahead and caught both Caleb _and_ Cornelia looking at me with raised eyebrows of honest intrigue.

I could feel _Matt_, as well, looking at me a bit expectantly to my right, causing my cheeks to grow hot immediately, especially since that was also when the rest of the gang decided to show up to the two tables we'd claimed for ourselves, too.

". . . . So, I take it that the Princess has some _important venue_ to attend this evening, then?" Cornelia spoke within false positiveness, blue eyes narrowing a bit as she continued to gaze upon me while blindly picking up her eating utensil, I could see within the corner of my eye.

I forced myself to steer my glance towards her way, rather than keep it settled upon Caleb once more, who seemed pretty content with staring at me, no problem, and practically without blinking.

"What's this I hear about 'important venues,' now? And how come I wasn't _invited?_" Irma chimed in jokingly with a grin, taking a seat next to me at my left, while Taranee chose the empty spot next to Caleb, and Nigel took the one next to Cornelia at the otherwise empty table next to her.

Eric and Hay Lin, meanwhile, were busy politely filling up two separate plates for the continually seated Ernest over yonder, and Nova, who was returning to her own place across from him at their lonely booth.

I don't really think that either of them expected to eat an actual meal, let alone be served one (from what I could see, anyway, as I slightly turned around within my seat to make sure Nova had gone back to her seat), because both of their mouths hung open for a few moments, I suppose within surprise, as the jovial pair carefully placed the two plates down onto the table for them.

But they certainly seemed to appreciate the gesture, since the both of them gave a small, almost shy-like nod of thanks before awkwardly beginning to eat.

"_Well?_ The girl asked you a question, Will," I could hear Cornelia press on within further inquiry from behind me, which made me groan softly underneath my breath before turning around.

". . . . Y-Yeah, well, I, um . . . _do_ have somewhere to be later on tonight . . . but I'm supposed to be back at the Plaza no later than four o'clock, my uncle said," I slowly explained, feeling that much more sick to my stomach, one, because I was unfortunately now sharing the details with my friends (which I'd never wanted to do at all, so thank you very much, Nova), and two, because I sounded like some obedient little _slave_ to Eli's demands.

_Perish_ the thought!

Surprisingly, of everyone to speak next, it just _had_ to be Caleb, as he, too, curiously found this particular topic just as riveting as his girlfriend, it seemed like.

"Oh, really? And why is that, Princess Will?" he asked slowly and almost thoughtfully, as though he were taking care to choose the correct words or something.

Seeing as it was a direct question towards me, I thought it might have been all right if I looked his way again, finally.

_Wrong_.

God, was I _ever_ wrong (although, my track record has shown, thus far, that I usually am).

Right when I was doing so, I was already beginning to answer, yeah?

So I'm all, "Well, because I have to -", before my voice gets caught within my throat, thanks to our once again locking eyes with one another, and he's holding onto his warm tea cup with both hands up to his face, all sexy like.

Well, it was sexy to _me_, anyway.

Because, here he is, cradling the white, porcelain mug ever so gently within his strong palms, just barely touching his slightly dry lips, and his supremely deep, emerald colored eyes seeming to grow just a little bit darker as they focus so attentively upon me, and curiously so. . . .

If you were in _my_ shoes, you'd probably have trouble finding _your_ voice, too!

And the _sad_ thing is, is that I know, pretty much for fact, that he wasn't even _trying_ to be sexy, or even remotely _cute_, at that, in that moment.

Just a guy, asking a simple question, while trying to take a sip of his hot tea.

That's it.

But be _damned_, if it didn't want to make me pass out right then and there at the sight.

And _then_, to make matters doubly worse, my mouth is hanging open, with eyes just as wide, and _Cornelia_ (well, everyone at the table, really, as well), I did catch, after finally prying my eyes away from her boyfriend, is giving me _the_ most intense look of "Evils" I have ever seen her give me, or anyone _else_.

I mean, she seriously looked as though she desperately wanted to hurdle clear across the table _just_ to have at my throat and choke me to death, I'm not even kidding.

Which, then, of course, made me feel all the _more_ flustered, and frantically thinking to myself, _Say__something, stupid! Answer the guy, already, before his woman __throttles__ you! _

But then, I _also_ started thinking, _Holy God! What if it isn't about being jealous of where I might be going today, that she's so ridiculously pissed off right now, but because of the way I was looking at Caleb?_

I did try my hardest to calm myself down about that, since I have gotten worried along those same lines in the past, of course, and have always been wrong, it seems.

And I would've held onto that brief, momentary feeling of reassurance in that moment, too, had it not been for the fact that even though I was no longer looking at him, I could feel Caleb _still_ looking right back at me, in the same sexy-cup way, while Cornelia looked - Er, _glared_ at me, then softened her gaze a little bit when she looked at _him_, but then hardened it right back when it was returned to _me_.

Come _on!_

I'm not even _acknowledging_ your idiot boyfriend anymore, woman! Get angry at _him_, for daring to take interest within my princess-ness!

I was feeling _so_ desperate to get out of there, altogether, in that moment, that I was even willing to grab Caleb's cup of tea right out of his hands and throw it into my _face_ - _Anything_ to have an excuse to leave earlier than I eventually had later!

"I-I, um," I heard myself stammering for a few moments, before somehow managing to finally answer the question, doing my best to stare back at Cornelia with an even sort of expression. "There's this . . . _thing_ that my uncle wants me and my mom to be with him for tonight - Just some stupid little dinner, _I_ don't know - I-I guess as a way to . . . to bond as a family. . . ."

_Ha!_

Even _I_ didn't buy that weak lie!

No _way_ the others would, too!

"Aww, that sounds like a lot of _fun_, 'P-Willie!' Although, I'm sure that it might be a bit nerve-wracking to have to eat dinner with the _King, _even if he _is_ also your uncle!" Hay Lin said with one of her usual, happy smiles, as both she and Eric finally approached the half crowded table with their own plates of food, and sat across one another at the very end of the table closest to Nigel and Cornelia to my right.

Huh.

At least _she_ seemed to buy into it. But then, of them all, I suppose it _would_ have been trusting, and sometimes sickeningly optimistic Hay Lin.

Eric, apparently right there on the same page as his girlfriend (When is he _not_, though?), gave a quick nod of concurrence, as he looked from the cheerful girl across from him, to me with a smile of his own.

"That _has_ to be true, right? Have you eaten with King Elisud before, Princess? Oh, well, no wait - _Duh! _Of _course_ you have by now, I'm sure, what with you and you Princess Almira staying at the Plaza with him!" he gushed with pep, his simper turning sheepish. "B-But are all of you staying in, or going out somewhere? Ooh, I bet it'll be _loads_ of fun!"

"Calm _down_, there, '_Erica_,'" Nigel teased with a laid back grin, after having taken a sip of his root beer. "_Man_, you sound more and more like some sort of _cheerleader_, or something! It's just _dinner!_"

Now, _him_, I like.

Nigel, _so_ far, anyway, seems to be just about the only one within my little circle of friends who doesn't seem all that impressed or affected by the recent change of affairs where my life is concerned.

Well, besides _Cornelia_, of course (well, not affected within a _negative_ way like she has been, clearly).

I'm sure if it had been _Taranee_, however, who suddenly became affiliated with royalty in one way or another (well, she _is_, technically, by knowing me and being my best friend, of course, but I meant within a more direct sort of way), then he'd most likely be jumping through as many hoops as Eric, Hay Lin, and everyone _else_ who's found it so utterly fascinating thus far.

But, for _now_, anyway, Nigel has just been pretty laid back about the whole thing, and hasn't called me by any of my insufferable titles, either, which is just the way I like it.

Good man.

With both Eric, as well as Hay Lin now blushing within embarrassment (with her becoming affected most likely through sympathy, of course) and unable to respond swiftly enough, it was then Irma's turn to jump into the fray, especially since it was just as swiftly becoming a conversational topic she usually relished within taking part in.

"_Forget_ about that, Nigie! That's why Linny and 'Ric are _perfect_ for one another, anyway - They're _practically_ freaking _twins_," she remarked playfully with a wink of approval towards the two in question, which only made their naturally tawny faces grow all the more strawberry colored, as a result. "Now, _tell_ us, Will! _Is_ it of the 'field trip' variety, this prestigious din-din, or a staying in thing, after all? It's a _field trip_, isn't it? Oh, I can _so_ tell! I can just _smell_ it!"

"Look who's getting overly excited _now_," Taranee murmured within observation, a small, but growing smile forming upon her face, before taking a bite of one of the many pieces of warm, drizzled coconut sauce coated shrimp sat upon her partially full plate before her.

I wrinkled my nose a bit at the brunette's own enthusiasm over my possible whereabouts for this really-not-too-special outing with my _just_ as not-too-special uncle, before slowly, and finally revealing precisely where.

"_Ahhh_, calm down, Irma, all right? _Yes_, okay, _yes_, you . . . '_smelled_' correctly, or whatever - Eli's taking me and Mom to _Le Beau Expérience_ later on tonight, and -"

"- Holy _Frock_, I knew it! I _knew_ it!" Irma excitedly interrupted, practically screaming it into my ear as she turned her head to look at me again, lightly slamming her left, open palm onto the edge of the table.

"Whoopty-doo. Give _Scooby_ a snack, ladies and gentlemen," Cornelia said dryly with a twirl of her right index finger within the air, before rolling her blue eyes and resuming her own eating that she'd previously begun, now that she'd seemed to have dialed back her hatred and/or suspicion of me enough to actually manage to do so, that is.

While majority of the table groaned collectively at this, once again knowing all too well that by her having made such a comment, it would most likely set off yet another blasted Irma/Cornelia grudge match, the Water Guardian surprisingly decided to take the high road and completely bypass the obvious insult.

I guess the just found out news about my family's dinner plans were way too important for her to deviate from, even for a second, and to most likely tell Cornelia to shove it where the sun don't shine, or something.

"I just _knew_ you had to be heading out somewhere, from the way you were dragging your feet to tell us all so, Princess, that's all! And, aww gee - '_Le Beau Expérience?_' God, could being a princess _be_ any _more_ kick ass?" Irma remarked within grand approval and a nod, before curiously bending over underneath the table as though to retrieve something.

Sure enough, she comes back up and has a pink notebook in hand, and begins hurriedly flipping through it, and finally stops once she reached around the middle area of it.

"Okay, okay! So, since I have you, before you have to rush off and live it up and be wined and dined at a _much_ fancier joint than _this_ - No offense, Hay - now's _totally_ the perfect time to go through some of the interview questions I'd e-mailed you! Did you even look at them, by the way? Well, _whatever! _I have them _here_, anyway!" Irma's saying hurriedly with a smile, before her demeanor quickly became rather serious and professional, as she prepared herself to begin asking me God only _knows_ what (since I honestly _hadn't_ remembered to check the e-mail in question), and in front of the masses like this.

"O-Oh, um, before you proceed, or even get your hopes up so much about being the first one to interview me anymore, Irma, you should probably know now that Eli has already reserved those . . . 'rights' or whatever you wanna call them to _Emin_, who -"

"- Who the bloody hell is _Emin_, and why the _extra_ bloody hell did _he_ snatch up my _long_ since reserved rights to interview you before anyone else, since, _hello?_ I _am_ one of your bestest pals, thank you!" Irma promptly cut me off with an instant frown and stare which almost rivaled that of Cornelia's death gaze earlier, causing me to sink a little bit within my seat next to her within guilt.

I mean, I don't really know why I felt guilty at all, since I never honestly promised Irma that, without a doubt, she would be Numero Uno with any of that nonsense, not to mention the fact that it isn't exactly _my_ fault that Eli went ahead and did all of that on his own, _and_ for Emin, instead.

Not that I was all that thrilled to have to do _any_ sort of interview, period, with anyone, let _alone_ Emin (even though, if I _had_ to do one at all, there could be worse choices than his delicious self. . . .), but if I _could_ have any sort of say, then I really _would_ let Irma do it, instead.

I mean, at least with her I'd know the person (well, more than just the few times I'd met with Emin, that is), and know what I'd be getting myself into . . . more or less.

I was about to pretty much tell the now profoundly sulking Irma this, when Matt spoke up first on the other side of me.

"'Emin?' As in Emin Evgar? I think I know the dude - Er, well, not of the personal nature that _you_ clearly do, to be on a first name basis with him like that, Princess," he teased with a slightly knowing wink and nudge at my side (which made me want to fall in between the cracks of the wooden floor beneath us all, especially at feeling Caleb's returned glance towards my way just then), before continuing. "Isn't he always the one who's sometimes a guest on those stupid celebrity news coverage shows and TV shows, and his his own blog all about media savvy or whatever?"

At this, Nigel nodded within apparent agreement.

"Hey, yeah. I think I know the one you're on about, Matty. He was on an episode of that one wedding reality show, 'Ever After,' teaching the bride-to-be who wanted a princess-type of wedding a bunch of good behavior techniques or whatever related to that and junk. Or maybe that was someone else," he revealed casually with a small shrug, before catching the surprised glances from a good majority of us, at the news that he, of all people was watching a show about weddings.

Seeming to catch onto this, he quickly cleared his throat and chuckled before saying, "Oh, come _on! _I wasn't _actively_ watching it, or even _trying_ to! It's my _mom's_ fault - _She_ was the one engrossed within it a couple of weeks ago, as she _usually_ is each week! I was passing through the living room at the time on my way out to grab a bite, and saw the guy on it - _Geez_. . . ."

Actually managing to smile softly, mainly at the image of Nigel sat on the couch next to his mom, watching something so primarily girly, I slowly nodded towards Matt before answering his previous question.

"I _guess_ that's him, yeah, Matt, although I'm not really sure about the guy Nigel's on about. . . . I mean, I personally never knew Em - _Mr. Evgar_ before our first meeting during my first . . . lesson," I said tentatively, refusing to call it a "princess lesson" in front of all of them like that, or refer to Emin by his first name again. "But I suppose he really knows his stuff - I mean, about media navigation and what not - to apparently have guest spots on TV and such like that, and since that's precisely what Eli personally hired him to do when he met with me. . . . _God_, was it so boring. . . ."

Irma, who had tossed her once very important notebook onto the floor next to her within blatant defeat, then picked up her unused knife and pointed it at me as she said, "All right, _whatever! _So this guy's some big shot before _I_ am! I can accept that, I _suppose_ . . . but why the _frick_ does _he_ get to claim your interview virginity for?"

Oh, God.

If only Irma (and the others, for that matter) knew just _how_ embarrassing that colorful statement of hers _really_ was for me (you know, considering my secret attraction for the man in question), even though the large blush upon my face in that moment was rather evident and profound, unfortunately. . . .

And then, I could also see, that it seemed to make both Caleb and Cornelia a bit uncomfortable, themselves, as the two of them suddenly cleared their throats within unison, before looking every which way but at one another, while everyone else merely began to giggle at the brunette's comment.

Ya know, at _this_ rate, Irma won't even _need_ to have the Grumpers verify their facts about anything between the future Mr. and Mrs., since their fairly consistent, discomposed nature throughout most of the luncheon seems pretty evident, in and of itself, damn it. . . .

_So_ wrong. . . .

"Irma, it really isn't anything _like_ that - That I even had a _choice_ or say in any of this, I mean," I weakly tried to explain, slowly reaching up to lower the other girl's knife away from my face. "_Eli_ decided everything, as _always_, including offering the first exclusive rights to an unfortunate interview with the man, in order to thank him for offering up his services - And because he's also a journalist, apparently - since, you know, my uncle generally seems to believe that I'm all but a lost cause with this whole princess thing, and can _use_ all the help I can get. . . ."

At this, and with no real surprise, I could hear Cornelia softly chortle into her water glass as she took a small sip from it.

Choosing to dismiss the blonde's usual (it certainly seems like, lately, anyhow) enthusiasm at my expense, I pressed on.

". . . . And, I guess within further thanks, he's invited Mr. Evgar to dinner with us, with 'one extra guest,' he told me this morning before I left for class," I finished with a tiny smile, searching Irma's still brooding face for a glimmer of forgiveness.

". . . . And who's this 'extra guest,' the _Pope?_" she asked with a small pout, before slowly beginning to smile, herself, evidently already starting to feel better, if not yet forgiven me, anyway.

Giggling lightly, I shook my head.

"Actually, I don't know about that, although I'm _pretty_ sure it isn't - I _hope_ not, anyway. I'm _already_ going to be pretty nervous to be out in public in such a setting as '_Le Beau_ _Expérience_' with Eli and my mom as it is," I replied with a brief shrug, before taking a sip of my own water before me, still unfortunately not feeling all too hungry for the untouched food before me. "But I suppose it'll probably just be this other person who'd also helped out with teaching me the 'Royal Ropes' so far, I guess."

"Hmm . . . all right. I'll let it slide, I _guess_. . . . _But!_ I'm _definitely_ next in line, to do it even _better_ than _whatever_ this Evgar guy will do," Irma said firmly, although her turquoise eyes were soft and her smile from before was still upon her face.

I just nodded within silent compliance (even though I was pretty positive that Eli most likely already had the second, third, and _infinitive_ future interview with whomever already lined up for me), before overall silence at last fell upon the full lot of us.

I would have found it to be a rather awkward silence, but I was just so relieved to finally be out of the hot seat, especially about my upcoming "Royal Dinner," which everyone (even Cornelia . . . kinda) seemed to accept and not make _that_ big a deal over it the way I'd had originally thought and dreaded.

I even managed to retrieve some of my appetite, and began to eat some of my meal while everyone else around me was pretty much finishing up with each of their own.

After about seven or eight minutes later, Eric was the first to speak up, although he did so within a curiously hushed voice.

"Oh, right! I almost forgot to ask, although Hay did fill me in a bit when we spoke on the phone the other night! How did . . . _you_ know, your visit with Ellie go?" he asked cautiously, looking over Hay Lin's shoulder in front of him in order to properly gaze over at Nova and Ernest at their booth, who seemed to have finished with their own meal and were busy chatting quietly with one another.

At least, Nova was doing the chatting, I saw, when I looked over my shoulder to check them out for myself, as well, and Ernest, of course, remained mum, although he did keep nodding attentively to whatever the heck she was talking to him about.

Seeing that it was evidently safe to carry on within the current discussion at hand, Matt nodded within agreement as he added, "Hey, yeah, that's true. I'd been meaning to ask one of you girls - Or Caleb, whomever - about that. I'm going to assume that everything went swimmingly, then - Which, by the way, it thankfully had over on _this_ end, with me not having to do any sort of damage control, for a change. Did E. worry about nothing, after all?"

In case you hadn't yet realized, Journal, pretty much everyone, guy wise, anyway, short of Martin (I'm assuming, anyway, although he's never honestly indicated otherwise), all now know about the girls' and my shared Guardian secret, for years now.

I mean, it pretty much became a _necessity_ to let the rest of them in on it after a while, once our collective excuses for having to bail on them, _yet_ again, was running on empty, after all.

But, of course, just like Matthew, both Eric and Nigel have proven to be quite trustworthy with our dual identities (or, in _my_ case now, _triple_ identities, sadly), so it's really no big deal.

_Anyway!_

So, the girls, Caleb, and myself (well, mainly Caleb and the other girls) filled Matt and the other guys about what had happened during our evening visit with Queen Elyon, and how everything had pretty much gone off without a hitch.

Well, _almost_ everything, since that odd incident which had happened between Cornelia and me when all of us got to that Phocas Chasm Elle, Vathek and Aldarn had informed us about was pretty . . . well, odd, I guess.

And the others continually seemed to think along the same lines, themselves, since the majority of their comments about the overall escapade had been about that particular moment, unfortunately. . . .

I felt myself sinking deeper into my seat again, and I'm sure that Hay Lin, and maybe Matt, as well, caught it, as I tried my best to look otherwise unaffected by everything.

"And you two are feeling all right now? I mean, shouldn't you be a bit more concerned about it?" Eric asked with a worried look of his own, reaching across the table to gently squeeze his girlfriend's hand, as though silently thanking that the weird fainting spell which had happened to Cornelia and me hadn't also befallen Hay Lin, as well.

Cornelia nodded slowly, actually managing to pull herself from out of the even, "I'm seriously not interested within being here anymore" face she'd held onto since Irma's interview meltdown, and smiled genuinely at the ebony haired boy to her far left.

"Thanks, 'Ric, but no. I mean, I _guess_ I could - And _Will_, too, I suppose, if she wants to or whatever - fret over it, but it'd all happened so fast," she began tardily, as though struggling to recall every last event. And, sure enough. . . . "Although . . . it _is_ a little bit hard now for me to fully recall every last detail, the more I think about it personally . . . but I suppose that's only because I'd felt so momentarily drained at the time. . . . But I'm all right now, I guess. . . ."

At this newfound piece of information, everyone, even including Irma (who had, by her own admission to both Hay Lin and myself online yesterday, seemed to believe that the blue eyed girl had been faking the whole thing), I'd noticed, frowned deeply, as Taranee then took the helm.

"Hmm . . . well, that honestly doesn't _sound_ like it's 'nothing to fret over,' C.," she said with a serious, although caring tone, moving her empty plate aside now that she was done with it. "Why didn't you say anything about it in all this time?"

Although she did seem a bit touched at each of her friend's gathering concern for her, Cornelia looked about the table before simply giving a shrug and wave of her right hand within dismissal.

"Because I didn't honestly feel it was worth mentioning. I'm fine _now_, aren't I? And besides . . . I've had a lot of other . . . more _important_ things on my mind lately, anyway," she trailed off into a soft murmur, lightly biting down onto her bottom lip before gazing towards Caleb next to her, who was looking at her already with the usual care and compassion we all know he has for his beloved.

That is, he was up until that moment when she'd looked back at him. Then his expression curiously became rather . . . pensive, I guess? Which, I suppose in that moment, was just fine, since Cornelia's _own_ face became rather broody, itself, as the two locked glances with one another for a few moments before looking away. . . .

Those two are _so_ damned confusing, and constantly give me _headaches!_

I _cannot_ figure them out, and don't honestly believe I _ever_ will, I swear.

After _that_ odd moment (which only me and Hay Lin seemed to take notice of, since she suddenly jumped up within her seat for a moment, before staring, a bit intensely, I might add, at the pair, for a couple of seconds before then staring at _me_ just as intensely, I saw. _Please_, like _I_ know what the hell those two were silently carrying on about. Well, I _guess_ not, _I_ don't know!), Nigel then turned his head towards my way as he further addressed me.

"Okay . . . well . . . what about _you_, then, Will? The same thing happened to you, _too_, yeah? Are you still feeling woozy about it, or are you all right now, as well?" he inquired with a small, tender smile, as he blindly tucked back a couple strands of his own red, medium length hair behind his ear.

I could feel myself beginning to blush then, as my mind once again traveled back to that moment . . . especially to the part when I'd woken up seconds later to find myself wrapped within Caleb's strong and capable arms. . . .

_Bah!_

Get a _grip_, Will!

We've already established, _repeatedly_ now, precisely why it had been you, and _not_ Cornelia, Caleb had caught on that night!

He'd merely seen _you_ falling first, that's all, and _nothing_ more!

_Blug_. . . .

Anyhow, I nervously reached for my now half-empty glass of water and took a generous swig before responding, as though I was getting ready to recite a rather long, and rather difficult speech to the masses or something (although that's what it honestly felt like I was going into, since I was once again trying hard not to focus upon my asinine feelings for Caleb, _or_ look his way once more).

". . . . Um, well, I . . . guess it's just like Cornelia said, Nige: _I_ don't really feel any differently, myself. Well, I _have_ been a bit tired this week, but that's overall and because of my newfound, busy schedule, thanks to my _uncle_ and all," I started with a nod of added reassurance, keeping my gaze completely trained upon Nigel and Nigel, alone. "And as for the remembering part, I . . . I can't honestly say I recall a whole lot, either. . . ."

Yeah, I _know_ that was a lie, damn it.

_Irma_ knew it, and so did _Hay Lin_, thanks, again, to our online conversation . . . that, and probably _also_ thanks to Hay Lin's new lie-detecting ability which made her able to figure out my true feelings for her "brother" in the first place.

And so, I suppose, on _that_ basis, power wise, I mean, Taranee, _too_, could have probably picked up upon my fib, if she'd been paying attention and truly wanted to, I'm sure.

But, honestly, here, beyond my brief "moment" with Caleb, I really _don't_ remember much of anything else when it'd all happened . . . which I guess I _should_ be more concerned about, too, but my plate is just ridiculously full lately that it sort of pales in comparison at present.

'Sides, it's like Cornelia said, herself.

So long as neither of us eerily lapses into a sudden _coma_ or what have you, then we really _shouldn't_ feel too bothered about it, I guess.

Once more, however, the feelings were anything but mutual with everyone else.

This time, it was Matt's turn.

"Okay, _I'm_ sorry here, but I can't honestly understand how the two of you can _sit_ here and just be all, 'Oh, hey! _No_ worries, even though we've _both_ acquired a minor case of _amnesia!_' over the night in question!" he said within blatant disbelief and a shake of his shaggy brown head. "I mean, aren't _you_, especially, Will, always the one going on about how nothing is ever quite as it seems within your guys' 'line of work?'"

I slowly nodded.

"Well . . . _y-yes_, but I've _also_ said that we should always follow our gut instincts, as _well_, Matt. . . . And so far, _mine's_ been telling me that it really _isn't_ anything to get so worked up over," I replied, reaching out to cup my moist water glass with both of my hands, as though in comfort.

I _did_ mean it, though.

About the not feeling that it was all that big a deal so far.

At least _that_ hadn't been a lie.

Suddenly I could hear Caleb roughly clearing his throat, which naturally made me look up at him before I could stop myself.

He tilted his head ever so slightly for a moment, giving me, then Cornelia, then me again this thoughtful, "I'm about to say something pretty _epic_, so standby, 'cause here it comes!" sort of look.

Then, he's all, ". . . . Well, far be it for me to question the Princess's leadership skills, as they've greatly improved over the years . . . however, I personally do not think we should all be in such a hurry to sweep this entire incident underneath the rug," he began within his usual, getting-down-to-business serious tone he adopts whenever it pertains to Guardian affairs or his homeland. "I mean, Queen Elyon, _herself_, had stated how that area is pretty much uncharted, and thus, _unfamiliar_ territory. And we'd only been out there for such a short amount of time that night to truly know for absolute certain that everything _is_ on the up and up. . . . Plus, while Cornelia's and Princess Will's dual collapsing had been rather perplexing at the time - Even now - it could have been chocked up to mere coincidence. . . . But, _now_, hearing that the _both_ of their memories are rather hazy when reflecting upon it . . . I'm not so sure, anymore. . . ."

While everyone else slowly began to either nod or give faint murmurs of concurrence (and me focusing upon the fact that that was about the second time he'd openly complimented me in the history of ever. You know, when he just did about my Guardian capabilities . . . which I _guess_ means that he doesn't _super_ super believe that I'm _completely_ incompetent, as I'd always thought), with Cornelia actually blushing a bit before leaning over to give her boyfriend a quick peck upon his cheek (_Gag_ me.), I quickly caught Hay Lin once again slightly popping up within her seat, before peering at the ex-Rebel Leader.

He didn't even notice, just like the previous time, as he was, just _like_ the previous time, now looking at _me_, for like, the _umpteenth_ time.

I just assumed he was waiting for me to say yay or nay upon the matter, since, _as_ leader of the Guardians, I kinda-sorta have the final say and all, so I, for once, didn't get all hot and bothered inside about it.

So, with a small sigh, I, too, gave a quick nod before stating, ". . . . All right. Fine. We can try to head back over there some time soon, and conduct some further investigations. . . . At least it won't take as long to reach the chasm, now that we've all been there," I murmured within reflection to now being able to Fold to that same spot next time around. "But . . . I can't honestly promise _when_, though, since my school schedule, especially has become absolutely chaotic, what with the mounds of stupid projects in just about every class that I haven't even come _close_ to finishing . . . and then, of course, the newfound troubles with Eli and such, too. . . . B-But I promise it'll be soon enough, all right?"

I was aware that I sounded rather whiny, there, but it was still the truth.

I really _didn't_ know when the Hell next all of us could go back to Phocas Chasm.

Not as a full group, anyway.

Maybe I could just transform some or the rest of the girls, open a Fold there, and send them on their way, if all they planned to do was some sort of recon mission, that is.

I could live with that, and not worry for their safety too much, you know?

And plus, then too, Cornelia wouldn't able to try to get on me again about how I was possibly choosing my new princess affairs over her bestest and greatest friend ever, or whatever. . . .

Anyway, so I finish saying this, and everyone seems pretty content with my response, surprisingly, while Matt promptly wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tight.

"_Attagirl!_ This is a _prime_ example for why my little Will's both leader _and_ future queen! _Look_ at how effortlessly she does the delegation thing!" he affectionately jested, before kissing the top of my head, which, of course, made me want to _die_, because I was still looking back at Caleb when he'd done it.

And while Nigel, Eric and the rest of the girls each began to laugh about the boy's playful antics, Caleb was absolutely mute, while Cornelia, of course, rolled her eyes and folded her arms a moment before getting up to use the restroom.

I mean, I get _Cornelia's_ attitude and perfectly timed, temporary exit, sure.

She can't stand me, _or_ any continued attention to me lately, which, let's face it, happened for pretty much eighty-nine percent of the entire lunch.

Fine.

But _Caleb_, since he too then excused himself for the same reason, as well (to use the bathroom, that is), but not before shaking his head, as though within disapproval about something, it was a little bit harder to tell.

Well, mainly because his expression had been a bit difficult to read before he left, I guess (not like it ever truly isn't, though).

But I suppose it was just more of the usual, really, thinking about how can't I see how much Matt wants me back or whatever, and is practically throwing himself at me or whatever. . . .

_Anyhow_, after that, things pretty much died down, with a chain reaction of everyone else getting up, as well, either to use the bathroom, too, or to help Eric and Hay Lin clear the table.

Then there was a little bit more of the small talk, before we all collected our belongings, took a deep breath (well, _I_ did, anyway), braved the fairly larger group of the Paparazzi still lingering outside of _The Silver Dragon_, and piled back into the limo so that the group could be dropped off back at school to snag their cars to head home, I guess.

And then, there was only one after that. Well, _three_, if you counted Nova and Ernest, of course (er, and the driver too, again, which makes four, yeah), as we headed back to the Plaza (with ten minutes to spare before it was four o'clock, too, I sadly saw when I looked at my watch after filing into the elevator with my bodyguard duo), where the beginnings of what I truly believed would probably be one of the worst evenings of my life would then take place. . . .

Ooh.

But first, before I start on that, Journal, I've suddenly been hit with a _major_ craving for ice cream.

Suppose it's befitting, though, right?

Could _do_ for some comfort food right about now.

So, on that note, let me end this entry here, and come back again, tummy full and satisfied, and ready to go for round two of my "Friday Tales."

That is, if I don't suddenly come down from my wired "high" and crash the moment I come back to bed, anyway.

**- End of Chapter Fifty One**

* * *

**(A.N. I know, I know! I was gonna keep on truckin' straight to the end of it all! Well, you know, the whole dinner and such. But then I saw that this chapter was coming up on 26 pages already, and that was just for the first scene. LoL Wait till you read the actual din din scene. =) Anyway, so I thought I'd divide it, and keep the lunch with the gang in one 'spot,' and the less enjoyed meal with Eli within another.**

**But, hey! At least, in this way, you'll be treated to two updates fairly back to back now, rather than most likely having to wait another good amount of time to read new chapters. =)**

**At any rate, I really hope you'd at least enjoyed this chapter, before we get down to the nitty-gritty! HeHe Stay tuned – I promise, promise, promise, it seriously will NOT take long at all for the next update!)**


	53. Chapter Fifty Two Part One

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer: **I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. - I leave _that_ honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _So, the return of this story didn't exactly get the avid reception I had been hoped for, and honestly expected . . . so far, anyway. Just a few reviews for it thus far, although, by comparison, the hits for it have been rather high already, so I suppose it DID get the sort of response I had been looking for, after all. =) Plus the reviews it has gotten were all wonderful and greatly appreciated, as always. _

_So, thank you again, dearies!_

_Anyhow, please to be enjoying the first half of Chapter Fifty-Two, which clocks in at thirty-seven pages worth, this time around._

_So . . . yeah. Have fun with THAT. LoL =)_

_AND with some more "Eli/Will Time" (since half, although the better half, lol, can't STAND him, while the other half find him to be rather comical, especially whenever having to deal with Will's "Pfft! Forget YOU, old man!" attitude against him HeHe I will admit that he is one of my favorite original characters, for fanfics and otherwise, though =) )!_

_Oh, right. And "apologies," of sorts, ahead of time for one particular "scene. . . ." Let's just say that I used to watch a LOT of QVC with my mommy when I was a kid . . . and listening to the various music from "The Sims 3: Ambitions" on my Ipod as I wrote it didn't exactly help much, either. LoL_

* * *

This chapter was written/created in May 2011.

* * *

**Chapter Fifty Two**

**Saturday, November 11th, 1:26 am**

**"My Bathroom" Inside of the Presidential Suite of the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel **

Yes, bathroom.

I was still feeling a bit restless, even after having had two heaping bowlfuls of Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream (which I can definitely smell "_Diet Time_" over) to help settle my nerves, but _that_ didn't do anything.

Plus, I was starting to get a bit annoyed at one of the two, pretty giant Palm Trees (which are on either side of the just as gigantic bed I sleep on) "staring" back at me while I tried to continue writing in here once I got back, too.

. . . . Yes.

Even a freaking _plant_ (one of my favorites, I might add, at that) managed to get on my nerves.

So, yes, naturally, I really _am_ losing it.

At any rate, I _clearly_ needed a swift change of scenery once more.

So that's why I'm here, now, inside of the private (I think, anyway. That is, that it's only been available to me, since it's _right_ here, adjacent to the bedroom I sleep in, too, and there _are_ a billion other bathrooms to use within this suite, as well) bathroom that I've been using since I've been stuck "living" at this stupid hotel.

I thought that maybe a nice, super hot bubble bath would help put me at ease . . . I'm _hoping_, anyway.

_So_ far, I've been sat inside of this humungous tub for the last . . . coming up on twelve minutes, here, judging by the overhead, fancy clock just above the sealed door over yonder, and I'm not really feeling any closer to being "one with nature."

But then again, it also could be due to the fact this room is simultaneously helping to further remind me of the very, _very_ long getting ready session I'd experienced earlier this evening . . . er, _last night_, by now.

Before I get into that, though, have I ever bothered to tell you about the overall décor of this particular bathroom? I can't remember.

I don't know about the others in this joint, like my mom's or Eli's (who probably claimed the biggest room, let alone the biggest _bathroom_ here, of course), since I've been trying my best not to become too acquainted with the Presidential Suite on the whole, as doing so would only serve to further remind me that things really _are_ different for me.

Plus, I'm not a fan of _either_ family member at the moment, either (or, in Eli's case, _ever_, of course), so that's only natural.

But, boy _howdy_, did the designers go all out with this should-be-simple room.

Back home at the loft, ya just have a basic toilet, traditional dual bathtub and shower, with one, pretty plain, circular mirror hanging over an equally plain, porcelain sink for my _real_ bathroom.

You know, pretty average for the typical teenager (well, for everyone except _Cornelia_, I suppose, whose own bathroom is practically like experiencing some grand, unequivocal event whenever me or the other girls use it while at her penthouse).

And then my _mom's_ bathroom, naturally, as the head of the household, is a bit more glitzy than mine, although still nothing _too_ over the top since she's always seemed to prefer the less-is-more route (although, again, we all now know why).

I never really went in there much, seeing as that's part of the master bedroom, which has always generally been off limits to me growing up and stuff, but I did always used to be just a teeny bit envious of it, by comparison to mine.

I mean, she used to have a pretty generic bathtub, herself, up until a few years ago, anyway, when she used part of the bonus paycheck she'd gotten from work one time to treat herself to one of those state of the art spa bathtubs you would practically _kill_ for to own, especially after a long and tiring day (which is precisely _why_ Mom got it, she'd told me, on the first day it'd arrived).

And then there's this neat, little powder room sort of station near the bathtub that just _oozes_ out femininity, while her dual, granite sinks and general area to brush her teeth and such are on the _opposite_ side of the bathroom.

So, you know, like I said, Mom had definitely been dealt the better hand where bathrooms are concerned.

But, _geez_, if _this_ bathroom doesn't make the both of our old ones look like they were meant for some seedy_ restroom _area, instead!

'Cause I've now got both Mom's _and_ Cornelia's beat, hands down!

For _one_ thing, this bathtub I'm currently sitting in is big enough to fit probably three people at once (which makes me slightly cringe, as I can just imagine what sort of things have gone on in here before _I'd_ arrived), with its cute, giant "O" shape, and absolutely surrounded by and encased within marble, marble, _marble_.

Well, that is, there're these neat set of steps right on the side here (which really _does_ make you feel all the more royal-like, I'll sadly admit) that you gotta use each time you climb into the tub or out of it, and they're made of what looks like marble to _me_.

And which is why I felt it was safe enough to bring _you_ inside with me, Journal, since I could just lean over on the side, here, and place you down without any potential water hazards.

Anyhow, even the bathtub, itself, come to think of it, seems to be within the marble family, as well, which kinda makes me hesitant to move around too much in here, just in case it might be some shoddy craftsmanship (although I highly doubt it, since everything involving this entire suite seems to have been made with careful precision and actual talent, honestly).

There's even this single, fairly large and beige colored pillar (which seems to kinda contrast the rest of the bathroom's overall white design) propped up against the left hand corner of the tub area, too, while some more fancy looking fresh plants and flowers sit next to it and, again, "_look_" at me.

But that's not even the coolest part.

_Yes_, I'm openly saying that I am a bit impressed with the décor, even _if_ I'd still choose using my old bathroom if I could.

Anyway, the _real_ neat part, to me, at least, is the bathtub's nozzle.

It's golden, first off, I should mention. But that's not the big "Oh, wow!" part.

Whomever designed it, actually did so, so that it looks like a freaking _swan_.

Can you believe that?

If only you had eyes, Journal, then you could see for yourself, because it's that insane.

I mean, I've always read or heard about how some celebrities buy, own, or design (or rather, have designed _for_ them) some of the zaniest things out there, and I'm pretty sure one of them has a Swan-Tub-Nozzle looking back at them every time they use their own bathrooms.

So this would really be nothing all too special to any of _them_.

But to _me_, I had to do a _double-take _when I first walked in here.

That's like taking a stove and crafting it to look like a freaking hippopotamus's _mouth_, or something, so it'll appear as though it's "eating" your food each time you put something in.

But, _anyway!_

It really _is_ beautiful, though, what with its "wings" raised on either side of its "head" where the water comes out, of course. The slender, hot and cold handles on each side of it still look relatively normal, though, but it's still nothing to sneeze about.

And then, as for where I've been brushing my teeth and washing my face since I've been here, there's this really fancy (although, no surprise, all things considered) table that's made of mahogany, I guess, placed not too far from the bathtub and up against the wall on the left side of the room.

It really is a nice table, though, with its elegant, gold trim decorating the edges and sides, like at the the top (which is curved, like a rainbow), where the pretty long, rectangular shaped mirror was placed, and then also towards the bottom, where the would-be drawers might go.

I say this, because the dual (that's right, I've now got my _own_ dual sinks, thank you kindly), every-bit-as-marble-like-the-rest-of-this-area sinks were actually placed _into_ the table. Like, it looks like this overall thing could have instead been used within one of the bedrooms or even inside of a private office, like the one the suite actually has and Eli constantly uses for his various business ventures.

But instead, "the people" (whomever designed it, I mean) got all the more creative and placed the sink tops into it, instead of the normal table top.

Now I really _am_ starting to wonder what other nifty conceptions and inspirations could be lurking within the other bathrooms here, after all. . . .

Anyways, I suppose it's time to stop delaying the inevitable now, and finally tell you what happened during dinner with the evil king . . . bleh.

Which means, yes of course, recap time (although, in my case, "recapping" really means story-length versions, as is usually the case):

● **Presidential Suite of the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel, 4:54 pm**

Even though I had gotten back here with the ten, spare minutes I'd told you about within the other entry, true, that wasn't putting the usual journey all the way up to the fifty-first floor, with trying to maneuver around and ignore the eager, a bit _too_ helpful hotel staff (and sometimes fellow _guests_) rushing to make my hotel stay the most pleasant it could be in the process, as well.

And not that I honestly cared (or ever do, really) whether or not this would please Eli, the having arrived relatively early, _somehow_, though (Ha. "_Somehow_," she writes), I just knew that he'd _still_ find something to complain about.

Sure enough, the greeting I get from him as soon as both Ernest and Nova reached out to open the large, beige hued double doors to the suite open for me, was, "Ah, Princess Wilhelmina! You've returned! And, with . . . _six_ minutes to spare. I would have preferred a _far_ more prompt arrival of say, perhaps straight after school, but alas! It is to be expected, unfortunately, all things presently considered," he says to me with a small smile of amusement and look of his partially hidden (and super expensive looking, of course) silvery wrist watch, after having stopped short within the middle of the general area upon leaving his office, most likely, and catching sight of me.

I would have (and probably _should_ have) reminded the giant blowhard of his _own_ words from earlier that morning, clearly stating that it'd be just fine, basically, if I _didn't_ come straight "home," or, at the very least, let him in on a thing called _traffic_ (which we had run into a little bit, since by that time more of the other schools were being let out, and so it was school buses galore), especially within this crazy weather, but I was starting to feel _deathly_ nervous and ill by that point.

And since he didn't see me make a move to respond within some sort of heated way as he's undoubtedly used to from me by now, Eli merely turned his attention onto Nova and Ernest, who were both waiting silently at their place behind me and closest to the sealed doors.

"In _any_ event, my thanks, once more, to you, Ernest, _and_ to you, as well, Nova, for returning the Princess safely and unscathed. Heaven _forbid_ we should ever have a repeat offense as several days prior, when she had arrived for her first 'Princess Lesson.' The _last_ thing we could possibly need is another fiasco such as that, and not on _tonight_, of all nights," the pompous king said with a small shudder at the memory (which honestly feels like a lifetime ago to me now, especially since poor _Sprita_ had still been around at the time), before raising his right hand up near his naturally tanned face and gave a brief, backhanded sort of wave towards the pair. "That will be all for now, thank you! We shall, of course, see you once more later on, when we are all three ready to depart."

I didn't bother to turn to see Nova and Ernest go (although, not like I usually do, pay attention, I mean, whenever they do at the end of each day so far), before I already started heading towards my designated bedroom to lie down for a bit, as I could then feel a _major_ headache coming on.

Part of me wanted to just take an extremely long nap (conveniently long enough to completely _miss_ our stupid dinner altogether, of course) in that moment, suddenly.

Another part of me wanted to first rush to the bathroom and possibly _throw up _most, if not all of what little of the chicken and broccoli I'd managed to eat back at _The Silver Dragon_, I was feeling that increasingly sick and woozy.

And then, _another_, small, but fast-growing part of me wanted to quickly lock myself within the room, summon up an Astral Drop of myself, after all, and make _it_ go to _Le Beau_ _Expérience_, and any _other_ royal-related outing in my place from now on.

I mean, even though doing junk like that has only ever really gotten me into _trouble_, as I've told you about in the past, Journal, there's no _way_ my A.D. could possibly gripe about taking my place as the newfound Princess of Marsily, right?

I know that possibly _Cornelia's_ Astral Drop or even Irma's wouldn't, at least . . . well, maybe not. _Theirs_ have proven to be just as fickle and dodgy (and different, personality and preference wise) as the _rest_ of the Guardians' own.

Besides, in the case of _either_ girl, they'd probably beat their doppelgangers off with one, _very_ large stick if ever they'd have come 'round, wanting to experience the regal life in lieu of them, anyway.

So, I'm on my way to do one of these three things (well, most probably the first), when I hear Eli softly clear his throat from behind me.

I knew that he was doing it to get my attention, naturally, but I, just as naturally, chose to ignore him (like I would for the rest of my life, if he'd let me) and continued on my way.

Sadly, no go.

"Will you not, at the _very_ least, feign _some_ sort of semblance to a decent '_Hello_,' Wilhelmina, before, _quite_ commonly, I've noticed, locking yourself away within your bedchamber, as you clearly intend to now?" Eli inquired within a curiously . . . _pleasant_ sort of tone, which honestly made me feel that much more nervous to take note of, since general acts of disrespect, let alone coming from _me_, especially, seem to really, _really_ get underneath the guy's skin.

Yet, here he is, sounding not at all bothered by it for a change.

And, as always, whenever Eli's happy, or, at least, close to, where I'm concerned, it is never, _ever_ good for me.

And so, naturally, feeling as though I've already caught onto his little game of late, I turned around to properly address him, and with a frown asked, "_Why?_ Did you wanna _distract_ me for a little bit while my room's finished being _booby-trapped_ or something by your royal employees? Hidden cameras and the like?"

And at this, Eli merely laughed for a few moments (Good _God_) before waving a hand into the air within dismissal.

"Oh, yes! _Always_ quite the delight to be within your '_radiant_' presence, my dear, truly," he replied with a vaguely sarcastic air and small sigh, before moving towards me and carefully reached behind to discreetly open one of my double bedroom doors (since he curiously did not lean forward a bit to look inside or anything, almost like he was actually and _surprisingly_ trying to be respectful of what little privacy I still had within my life), as though to prove to me that it was all within my head. Sure enough, he goes, "As you can see, everything is as it should be, I would imagine; nothing to concern yourself over! _Besides_ which, you needn't concern yourself with whatever it is you may have wished to attend to within there quite yet."

I raised my eyebrow at this as I slid away from the man and moved to the side, as our unnaturally close proximity, even if only for a few moments and truthfully did not happen all too often (well, _that_ close, anyway), was only adding to my overall physical sickness.

Of course, I should have already gotten what Eli was talking about, clearly, but as usual, my mind was working at tortoise-like speed.

"And why is _that?_" I stupidly asked with a fold of my arms and gruff sigh, which Eli then mimicked, as well (the sighing bit, that is), after resealing the bedroom doors.

"'Why is _that?_' _Honestly_, Wilhelmina! Perhaps you should incorporate a tad more _fish_, say, _Salmon_, into your overall diet," he said within obvious insult towards my admittedly sucky memory lately, before moving away from me and towards one of the many, _many_ fancy chairs within near distance. "_Anyhow_, there is _far_ too much to do within the coming hours for even a _moment's_ time to be spared. They are already going to have work twice as hard - And _fast_, no doubt - where your _mother_ is concerned, since _she_ had elected to go to her workplace this morning, and will not return here until five o'clock, I was informed."

By that point, I was starting to get what Eli was driving at a little more swiftly now.

_God, time for more makeovers_, I groaned within my head upon realizing, gingerly beginning to rub at my temples within a desperate attempt to lull my mounting headache away.

"Why in the world would Malvina and the other stylists possibly _need_ so long to 'do me up,' even _if_ you seem to think that I'm such a 'tough client?'" I asked within growing fatigue and lessening patience, moving over to the same, red and old fashioned looking couch, in front of the fireplace and where Eli had been seated when I'd first had the displeasure of meeting him.

When I carelessly plopped my body down onto it and reclined back a bit, after having unbuttoned my fancy-schmancy coat, I could hear Eli let out a loud gasp to the left of me.

"O-Oh! _Mon Dieu!_" he practically squealed (what I honestly believe to be his catch phrase, since he says it so damned much. At least, whenever around _me_, anyway) within disbelief, swiftly bringing his left index finger and thumb up to the bridge of his prominent nose, where he then spread them out along the bottoms of each eyebrow and momentarily shielded his face, as a result. He then gave me a look of great exasperation before speaking again. "_Surely_ you can understand the _value_ of things, yes? And so, _surely_ you must realize how _expensive_ both that lounge chair _and_ your clothing are, for you to go around . . . _catapulting_ yourself in that way! For _your_ sake, I would hope that you will do _well_ to remember your manners - Such as they are, unfortunately - for later on tonight. _Especially_ while in front of our important guests, of course! I suggest that you bring out the royal pedagogy ledger I'd given to you and look over your notes one last time, _posthaste_, before time is up . . . _please_. . . ."

Gritting my teeth, practically _breaking_ some of them within the process, I promptly sat up and glared darkly at the King, giving him a look which I felt could have almost rivaled the one _Cornelia_ had given to me earlier that afternoon, even.

"You really _ought_ to change your country's stupid law about 'firstborns only' ruling, I _swear_, Eli, because clearly _neither_ of us wants me to go anywhere _near_ your current throne, _period_, let _alone_ actually take over in your stead one day, being that I'm such the royal _screw up _- Pun definitely _not_ intended," I muttered with a roll of my eyes, continuing to rub the side of my head with minimal success to dull the pain.

I thought that Eli was going to swiftly agree and applaud me for saying something "smart" for a change, but he didn't.

Instead, he slowly rose from his brief seat, walked over to me and then, of all things, rested a bejeweled hand upon my left shoulder. I immediately looked up at him within utter surprise, effortlessly forgetting all about my headache and feeling every bit as awkward and uncomfortable as he, himself, then appeared (although he did try his best to hide it and continue to look all "kingy").

". . . . This is not about how whether you, or even _I_ wish for things to be different, and for you to no longer be a princess . . . _or_ to one day rule in lieu of my _own_ eldest child," Eli began with a bit of uncharacteristic quietness (which, coupled by his still continuing to touch me thing, was really, _really_ starting to creep me out), and brown eyes almost softening a little bit. "This is about becoming better prepared for what is _out_ there, Wilhelmina. . . . As I have already told you once before, during a fairly similar conversation, I might add, you were _born_ a princess, and will _die_ as one, whether or not you choose to properly acknowledge this, or even if you choose to . . . abdicate your right to rule as your mother had, as per our recent agreement to continue on with your lessons and other such royal instruction up until your eighteenth birthday, when you make your final decision. . . . The world has _completely_ changed for you now, and even if you _do_ turn down the throne in the end, it will not reset itself, _nor_ will the media and other similar social pariah suddenly cease within trying to learn all that they can about you, as they have _already_ been these last few days, alone, it seems. After all, 'forearmed is _forewarned_,' as it were. . . ."

. . . . Was that his way of trying to give me some sort of _pep talk_, or fatherly . . . er, "_uncle-y_" advice?

Truth be told . . . it didn't really make me feel _too_ annoyed to hear that long winded speech come out of his mouth . . . even if it _had_ come out of his. . . .

And, as much as I hated to admit it (and certainly never would to _him_, God no), Eli _did_ have a point.

Short of having Elyon coming to the rescue and warping reality for me, after all, as I'd originally wanted her to (and still kinda do), things really _won't_ ever be the same, no matter _which_ path I inevitably take where this "to rule, or _not_ to rule" deal is concerned.

I mean, look at all of those kids of famous people, who are immediately watched like a hawk from birth and on, and basically live inside of this giant, proverbial bubble, twenty-four-seven?

And none of _them_ hail from royalty (I'm assuming), yet they get all of that, sometimes unwanted attention.

And _I'm_ such the hot ticket nowadays, and probably _will_ be for a good few years to come, at that.

There's no _way_ I'll be left alone any time soon. . . .

Sigh.

When you're right, you're right . . . even if that right individual _is_ your stuffy, generally insufferable and overbearing, long lost uncle.

And so, with _very_ heavy, very _long_ exhale, I slowly got up from my own seat (which thankfully caused Eli to drop his hand away from my shoulder), and, without looking at him, simply grumbled, ". . . . Let's just get this whole makeover crap over with, already."

While I don't think he was pretty pleased as punch to hear me say "makeover _crap_," since his formerly kinda-sorta relaxed facial expression had then wrinkled a tiny bit, perhaps due to assisted imagery, even, Eli then clasped both of his hands together with renewed vigor and apparent triumph.

"Ah!_ Yes!_ Indeed, _thank_ you, Princess Wilhelmina. Now, then! Our dinner reservations have been set for eight o'clock, _sharp,_ later this evening, and so I have asked that your own, various preparations begin promptly at four o'clock on the dot to allow for enough time," he explained, a bit too excitedly, as he left my side and walked towards the suite's dual entrance and exit doors, as though expecting someone to come a-knocking at any moment.

Sure enough, however, as soon as Eli took his second step, the soft, yet at the same time firm rapping, four times over, could be heard falling upon the other side of the beige colored double doors.

"_Right_ on cue, would you not agree, Wilhelmina?" the King of Marsily turned to look at me fleetingly with a small chuckle within his words, before continuing to walk to the door and actually answer it, _himself_, rather than one of his four, all male bodyguards, who just then suddenly filed into the room and came out of _nowhere_ upon hearing the sound, themselves. (Creepy sort of people, bodyguards, I tell ya.)

"No, no. That is quite all right, thank you; your King is well aware of whom this could possibly be," Eli addressed his momentarily wary quartet of protectors (which made me roll my eyes and silently mimic the man upon hearing that "your King" bit), before reaching out to open both doors at once. "Ah, _welcome_, _all_ of you! Four o'clock, exactly! _Punctual_, as always - Thank you! The young princess is already inside, ready to go, while her mother, Princess Almira shall be joining us within an hour's time, as you were each already informed of, as well. Come in, come in! Let us not waste another moment - In _addition_ to keeping within present mind the Nondisclosure Agreement you had all signed upon having consented to do this!"

. . . . Is it me, or was Eli really, I mean, _really_ looking forward to this whole dinner thing later on?

I don't think I've _ever_ seen him so . . . charismatic, I guess you could say, before.

No.

That's not the right word . . . not really, anyway, since it's about him.

But it's still close enough.

Anyway, it isn't that I've ever seen him be an outright, well, _dick_ to any of his servants or employees or whatever you wanna call them . . . so _far_, anyway.

But this was the first time that I'd ever witnessed him be almost . . . down right _giddy_ with them, and period, really.

It _would_ have been honestly quite comical, had it not been for the fact that it was coming from _Eli_, of all people, in addition to the other fact that this overall situation was anything _but_ funny.

I turned away from the door for a moment, I guess just to sort of brace myself for what was to come, maybe, before turning back around to see the usual faces of the various stylists I'd seen each weekday morning thus far (well, just the two of them, rather, I should say) . . . and definitely a few new ones, too.

When I'd noticed that, I was then thinking, _Holy __Christmas__, this guy hired an entire __army's__ worth of cosmetic people this time_, especially upon seeing that the once pretty empty common room sort of area was suddenly becoming _packed_ with about eight or so extra people now trying to cram themselves through the front doors . . . and each lugging various makeup assemblages and other beauty care-oriented items with them.

And then, once all of them piled inside, I could also see three men, I suppose a part of the actual hotel staff, based upon what their now familiar clothing (that said employees wear here, that is), carefully walking in after them.

I say carefully, because each guy had a mountain of items blocking their view, for the most part, what with one carrying what looked like at least six, white colored shoe boxes, while another gently cradled black, protective clothing bags of perhaps the same amount, and the last (who lucked out the most within the being able to see department, a bit, since his items were the smallest) held onto a various array of jewelry boxes.

_Oh, yeah. __This__ is definitely going to be a treat_, I told myself silently as I felt myself grit my teeth once more, slowly taking a few steps back from the seemingly never-ending sea of eager beavers now enclosed around me and Eli.

"These have _just_ arrived for you, Your Majesty, with courtesy and compliments of 'Tiff and E Jewelry,' 'Jamie Shoe,' and 'Chanal!' Please _enjoy!_" the dude carrying what I'd guessed correctly to be jewelry boxes said, as he was the last to enter, with great nervousness shining through his voice, especially upon locking eyes with Eli as he shyly walked past him to set everything down somewhere inside of the suite.

Good _grief_.

For the _life_ of me, I will _never_ understand the big deal about being around someone like Eli, honestly.

People are always about ready to jump for joy, throw up, pass out, or do all _three_ whenever they just _look_ upon him, let alone _speak_ to him, I've noticed.

Well, around these parts at the hotel, anyway, since I haven't honestly been out within public with him . . . until _now_, sadly.

If they only _knew_ what goes on behind closed doors, I don't think they'd be so quick to wanna kiss his feet, I'm sure. . . .

Anyhow, Eli is still playing the magnanimous card and generously thanking everyone involved for their efforts and junk, and reminding the three hotel dudes to "_do_ send my own regards to them for me, again" about getting all this evidently free stuff from all of these super expensive, and high profile places that I've only ever previously gotten into contact with through the _television_ (which, again, only served to make me feel all the _more_ rattled over the outing, since it meant that I'd once again have to be wearing clothing and other such adornments which were probably _four times_ the price of what I'd worn earlier for school, and the other days before that _combined_), before sending them on their way, yeah?

And I'm beginning to think to myself, _I wonder if __Mom's__ gonna get just as much grief over this dinner shindig as I am right now_, right when, as though having read my mind (_Bleh_), Eli, after having closed the suite's double doors once more, goes, "I really _must_ do something special for these establishments, as this is the _second_ delivery today that I have received from them, the first, of course, having been for your mother, Princess Wilhelmina. And yet, _so_ far, nothing for _me_, it seems!"

That (pretty _cheesy_, if you ask me) lighthearted joke at the end there promptly triggered a fairly unified chorus of laughter from the platoon of awaiting stylists and whomever else before us, which made Eli momentarily join in, and _me_ roll my eyes once again, while reaching up to rub at my temples for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Seeming to finally take notice of my similar actions within the last several minutes or so, Eli then turns to me and asks, "Are you not feeling well, Princess Wilhelmina? No worries, then. I will have the cooks prepare some nice, hot Peppermint Tea - For us _all_, I think, as having a bit of tea right now sounds quite lovely, especially with such frigid weather. And then, within the _meantime_, I will be within my office tending to my various, _other_ affairs, while I leave you to prepare for our upcoming venue."

And with that, he gives me, and my then soon-to-be-busy stylists a quick nod of his traditionally slicked back, wavy black hair, before heading into his nearby office and quietly closed the double doors after him.

What I wouldn't _give_ to have a ton of bricks and cement for that door right about now. . . .

And there I was, left alone with this crowd of professionals, just _itching_ to get at me, and for the next, close to four freaking hours, at that.

"I, uh. . . . H-Hello, everyone . . . nice to . . . meet you," I squeaked out awkwardly, more as a question rather than an actual statement, as I just as awkwardly scanned the group over with my eyes a moment, before decidedly settling them onto Mabelle and Malvina, who were both front and center and smiling generously back at me (well, just like the rest of their companions, actually).

At least with _them_, I was sort of familiar with, so the whole hair and makeup aspect of what I was confident to be a grueling process (since I gotta deal with them pretty much every school day now, it seems) wouldn't be anything new.

And then there was also that other chick who helps me pick out what I'll wear each morning, as well, too.

Well, in truth, I didn't know _who_ she was, or even that just one set person always chose out the line of clothing set for me each day that I rifle through, before finally finding something I can live with.

She's never stuck around long enough for me to even know . . . until now, that is.

She's _also_ evidently the one who chooses the jewelry and crap that I wear, as well (which I thought _Eli_ did, himself, honestly, since he usually makes his comments of approval about them the most, over anything else I might be wearing, if and when we have the displeasure of seeing one another before parting ways in the morning. Then again, though, seeing as he's usually bedazzled within his various arrangement of rings and such on his fingers most everyday, I shouldn't _really_ be all that surprised by his enthusiasm).

Name's Juvela Lefévre.

I know. Fancy, right?

Then again, so is "Malvina and Mabelle Kalah." (To me, anyway.)

I like her name, though, just like the Kalah Sisters', I will say.

And she'd certainly made a point within how it was meant to be pronounced . . . well, at least judging from the way she'd placed her own sort of emphasis upon her name, once she'd properly introduced herself to me.

"Yoo-veh-lah," instead of something like "Joo-vee-luh," I guess.

Yoooo . . . vehhh . . . lahhh. . . .

Sorry.

Spaced out there for a second.

This bath's warmth is _really_ starting to kick in, finally. . . .

Anyway!

Back to the finally revealed Miss Lefèvre.

But, before I get into that again, can I _just_ take a quick second to address how unbelievably _gorgeous_ this young woman is?

Seriously.

Like, if any of the guys had been there to meet her with me, even _Eric_ and _Nigel_ would most likely deviate from their beloveds to attempt their separate chances at successfully wooing her.

Maybe even stupid _Caleb_, too (which would so totally figure, right, since he _would_ probably go after every _other_ girl besides _me_, of course, if ever he and Cornelia suddenly called it quits, that is).

I wonder if she's ever done any modeling before, since her perfectly flawless, tall, and dark chocolate colored physique is precisely what agencies go for, seems like.

And then add to that her shoulder length, super super curly black hair, piercingly deep, brown eyes, high cheek bones and full, pouty lips and it's a done deal, really.

If I were a guy, or homosexual, I know that _I_ probably would have been fawning over her right about then, anyway (instead of experiencing the _instant_ feelings of "Plain Jane Syndrome" I was beginning to while I'd silently assessed her great beauty).

She, followed by the Kalahs (who, even though they, too, are very beautiful and supermodel worthy, themselves, as I'd said once before, probably wouldn't be able to hold a _candle_ to Juvela's "exotic looks" if it were an actual competition, I think), was the first to approach me out of everyone else also present, and did so with a fairly confident smile and respectful curtsy before introducing herself.

"It is so wonderful to finally make your acquaintanceship, Your Highness," she began with a ridiculously thick French accent (although, _duh_, considering her surname, I suppose it's no wonder), after having re-straightened her posture to look at me again. "I am Juvela Lefèvre, a fellow image consultant of sorts, as my compatriots Miss Malvina and Miss Mabelle, here, for example, although _my_ expertise is more focused upon wardrobe. May I say that it has been _quite_ the pleasurable challenge, as it were, to arrange the daily apparel I have had sent over to the Plaza for you - That is, a 'challenge,' as we have never met face to face before now, and so have had to go off of what the King has informed me of, in terms of your personal style. . . ."

I could then only _imagine_ what Eli had told Juvela about me by way of physical appearance. Even _if_ he didn't find me to be just as annoying and uncouth as I find _him_ in return, it still couldn't have been very well promoting, since, being a tomboy and all, I practically dressed like a _slob_ by comparison to the snazzy digs I've been forced to wear _nowadays, _anyway_._

Not bothering to even ask about what really had been said between the two of them, I merely gave a shy sort of nod at the too-gorgeous-for-her-own-good young female, before managing to find my voice again.

". . . . I-I . . . see. W-Well, it's nice to make _your_ acquaintanceship, as well . . . Juvela, was it? O-Oh! And, um, thank you for all of the clothes. . . ." I trailed off, knowing full well that I sounded like a complete idiot, and certainly then began to _feel_ like one once I'd caught sight of Juvela, Mabelle, _and_ Malvina's simultaneous urge to suppress an oncoming set of tittering which clearly then wished to be let loose.

Instead, however, Juvela kindly nodded within understanding (I suppose), before saying, "You are _most_ welcome, Princess Wilhelmina! I assist with and lend my consultation services to _various_ organizations and establishments - _Including_ 'Chanal' - so that is why I have not been able to personally come to extend my further gratitude for seeing you wear - And _beautifully_ so, I might add - what I have selected. However, being that this coming evening _is_ a special occasion, I thought that I would do so now, and see if the assorted attire arranged for both you _and_ Princess Almira will be to your liking!"

After that relatively drawn out explanation, Mabelle then suddenly pipes up with, "But _first_, of course, Juvela, will be the Princess's facial, manicure and pedicure, as scheduled and listed upon the Royal Itinerary mailed to us all several evenings ago!", which caused me to raise my finely waxed eyebrows (again, thanks to her) upon hearing.

Royal Itinerary?

Were they _serious?_

I suppose that I shouldn't have been _too_ too surprised, I mean, given that Eli pretty much alluded to that not too long ago, what with having everyone arrive so early to help me get ready and such.

Still.

With all this great attention to detail, and just for a simple little dinner (even if it _was_ for royalty, _and_ in public, this time around), it was almost like I was getting ready to be _married_, or something.

Which then, of course, made me begin to wonder exactly who _else_ this mystery guest was going to be, after all. . . .

"True enough, dear sister! But, even _before_ that, there is still the matter of the Royal Bathing!" I could regrettably listen to Malvina cheerfully snapping me out of my brief reverie over, causing me to instantly blush within embarrassment.

Did she _have_ to announce it like that, _and_ in front of _everyone?_

Worse yet, did she have to call it my "_Royal Bathing?_"

I'll bet that's what it _totally_ says on the actual itinerary, too, knowing Eli. . . .

I was about to speak up about how I was probably just going to wash up and such when I returned (even though I knew they'd all probably laugh in my face to hear, or something), when the remainder of what I will now refer to as the "Makeover Mob" (since I never _did_ catch the rest of everyone else's names, which only served to further make me feel _super_ awkward about each of them rushing to and fro and fussing over me to get me ready in time) suddenly _pounced_ on me, basically, and commenced a very long, very _tiring_ (and _boring_) transformation sequence. . . .

To make my life easier, I will now dissect each "session," I guess you can call it, within the order (and unfortunate duration) they had occurred:

* * *

_4:10 pm. - 4:25 pm._

_The "Royal Bathing" _

Without a doubt, _the_ shortest bathing-_anything_ I have ever had within my entire life.

Fifteen minutes?

You're lucky if I make it out of the bathroom in just under two _hours_ most of the time, with the traditionally long showers (or baths sometimes, too) that I take.

And that was _another_ thing, too.

Although I'm not adverse to them, showers have always been more of my thing rather than baths, but thanks to this particular bathroom, anyway, not possessing one at all (that I can see, at least), I have taken more baths within this week alone, than I have throughout the near four years I've been living at my mom's and my loft.

And they wanted me to get everything done in _fifteen minutes_, on top of that?

I was _barely_ finishing up with washing my hair before I heard a quiet, single knock upon the thankfully locked door that Malvina was waiting to do my hair . . . which made me feel both aggravated, for having bothered doing it, _myself_, and then also super _embarrassed_, because the unrecognizable, female voice of some perfect stranger was then alerting me of this on the other side of the door, while I'm still effortlessly _naked_.

You know how you sometimes have those nightmares of being trapped within one of your classes, completely in the buff, while having to give a speech or something, and the immense dread and humiliation you feel as a result?

Yeah, well, picture that, and multiply it by about a _thousand_, because that's precisely how I felt the entire time I was forced to wash up, knowing full well that a room cluttered with people were actively waiting on me, and knowing precisely where I was and what I was doing. . . .

I _would_ say that it could have been _worse_, in the sense that one or all of them went inside of the bathroom _with_ me and helped to scrub my back or something like that (which, to be perfectly honest, I thought that that was exactly what they were going to do or offer), but no.

I don't really think that there'd _be_ all that much of a difference in terms of the mortification factor. . . .

About the only, slightly positive thing that I could say about the bath experience was that someone, I guess one of the hotel staff or whomever else, had already gone ahead and drawn the nice, warm water for me when I went in there to see, and smelled of a vanilla and honey scented mixture (the air within the bathroom, that is), which, of course, I love.

The water was even sprinkled with pink rose petals, too, while four, thick, and golden colored candles were lit and carefully placed around the bathtub, and soft, classical music was curiously playing within the background from God knows where, since I didn't see any radios (and still don't, now that I'm back inside here, and looked around).

Needless to say, they _really_ went all out.

It almost made me want to have that sort of treatment _every_ time I woke up to get ready for the new day . . . _almost_.

* * *

_4:25 pm. - 4:50 pm._

_Hair Washing, Conditioning, and Drying with Malvina Kalah_

I don't know if I'd ever bothered to mention before how that, between the two sisters, _Malvina's_ usually the one who fusses over my hair and the various styles they've been in thus far, since my having become a princess (or, rather, since I've been stuck here at the Plaza), but she is.

I don't know if that means that Mabelle cannot or does not do hair sometimes, herself, but _she's_ always busy taking care of my makeup and such, in the meantime (which is what she did do, but we'll get to that in a bit).

In any event, Malvina quickly descended upon me once I'd awkwardly emerged from the bathroom, wearing the fluffy, white and, of course, big-ticket looking bathrobe I'd been briefly advised to don for after my bath, by one of the nameless makeover people on my way into the bathroom.

I didn't honestly want to, though, and definitely didn't dare do so with nothing on underneath, like my undies and bra, at the very least (which I did do and put back on), but I figured that if I'd tried to put my previous clothing back on, I'd most likely get some form of grief from everyone involved.

Something probably along the lines of "Oh, _no! _Those clothes are _dirty_ now from the day's toiling, and so, too, are _you_ again, Princess! _Back_ to the Royal Bathing for you!", or what have you.

And so, I chose to just grin and bear it, as best that I could.

But at least the robe really was extra . . . poofy, I guess, alongside the white pair of slippers I was also given, and even the towel of the same hue I'd had firmly wrapped around my moist hair, so they each helped to almost . . . _cocoon_ me in a weird sort of way.

I mean, besides my face, hands and ankles, there wasn't honestly anything all that "expose-worthy" about me in that moment, thank _God_.

_Still_ unsettling, though.

Don't ask me where it came from (since I hadn't seen it beforehand), but suddenly there was this black colored, portable hair washing sink set up within the far left hand corner of the common room area (and I'm wondering where's she gonna get the water from to use), nearest to "my" still closed bedroom doors.

Then, next to it, I noticed a portable salon type hair dryer of the same color placed to the right.

You know, the ones you gotta stick your head into, yeah.

And, of course, standing patiently (although her face was effortlessly aglow with profound eagerness) near both was Malvina, who then clasped her hands together as I slowly approached.

"Let us not delay _another_ moment, Your Highness!" she basically squealed within her usual, jovial demeanor that she shares with her twin sister, who was nowhere to be seen . . . just like a good chunk of the _other_ members of the Makeover Mob, I'd realized (which, of course, made me feel more anxious than relieved to have taken notice of, because they were probably all off somewhere, busy with other various glam-doohickeys or whatever). "There is still _so_ much left to be done!"

I only gave a slow, defeated sort of nod her way as my response, before just as slowly settling into the purple colored salon chair situated in front of the portable sink, and let Malvina "work her magic," I guess.

I suppose this part was a little less fazing than my bath experience, the hair washing, I mean, although it still hadn't been without its moments of self consciousness.

Not counting this particular moment, I have only ever really gone to an actual hair salon and have someone take care of it the full nine yards, like Malvina was doing, a grand total of two times so far, and _that_ was for my eighth grade graduation, and my sweet sixteen birthday party.

Would have been _three_ times, perhaps, if I hadn't gotten _ill_ around the time of my Junior Prom last year, of course . . . _sigh_.

Still.

Even though it hasn't been all too often that stuff like this would happen, with having complete strangers "make love" to my hair, I have to say that I'm pretty all right with that.

Because having to sit in that chair, head tilted back while Malvina hovered over me and quickly, although still quite attentively lathered up my hair was _sooo_ awkward.

I cannot say that word enough, _or_ find a better way to describe it . . . well, _everything_ which had occurred last night, really.

It really _was_ awkward, though!

And it wasn't like I could at least _read_ something or listen to music while she went to work, either, since I had to keep my head back the whole time.

Well, _most_ of the whole time, since I guess my discomfort was subconsciously taking over my body a lot, since Malvina had to keep politely asking me to lean my head back again throughout the overall process.

And that was about the only time she _did_ speak to me, not that I really wanted to try to strike up conversation with her, though, as that would only make me focus more upon the fact that someone else besides _me_ was currently washing my own hair.

But the silence between us was downright _maddening!_

Well, she _did_ hum contentedly to herself from time to time, while reapplying more of the fancy smelling shampoo (God, even the _shampoo_ was freaking glitzy and expensive, I'll bet) and gingerly working it into my scalp.

But beyond that, nothing.

She didn't seem unnerved as _I_ was about that, though, as she seemed instead to be within her element and in the zone with her work.

_Lucky_.

I _did_ try to close my eyes, if I didn't also try looking every which way _but_ at Malvina, as I sometimes do during the early mornings she's styled my hair for school, but it wasn't the same.

For _one_ thing, I honestly closed my eyes _then,_ mainly because it was bright and early, and I was pretty much still half asleep.

So the self awareness, and thus, ample embarrassment, isn't as great, especially like how it was _now_.

So I just decidedly settled upon doing my best to simply focus upon my nose while Malvina finished up, which I'm sure made me go a bit_ cross-eyed_ as a result, but thankfully no one else seemed to be around.

Well, in the same _room_, anyway.

Finally, after a shampoo, rinse, shampoo, _rinse_, conditioning-set, and then a _final_ rinse (_Thank_ you, Lord), Malvina then gave my pretty damned squeaky clean hair by _that_ point a quick blotting before directing me to the hairdryer.

And honestly, I don't know how I hadn't noticed it before, but instead of a similar chair as the one I had been sat within for the last several minutes or so, it was, what looked like to me, anyway, a flippin' _spa_ chair.

Yes, a spa chair.

You know, the kind with the manicure bowls attached to the arm rests, an adjustable foot rest to prop your feet up onto when you're not busy dunking them into the large pedicure foot bath bowl thingie right below it?

Yeah, _that_ kind of spa chair.

And it was all regrettably for _me_. . . .

* * *

_4:50 pm. - 5:20 pm._

_Full Manicure and Pedicure with . . . "No Names"_

Like I said, I never _did_ catch the names of anyone else, as none of them offered them up, and I never thought to _ask_, being so preoccupied with nerves which were continually doing gut-wrenching loopty-loops inside of me.

So while my hair was drying, two new individuals, one female and one male, but _both_ blonde, brown eyed, and I suppose within their late twenties or early thirties, began to work on my hands and feet. . . .

I don't know _how_ people (like Cornelia, for example, who _also_ goes to get her hair done a lot, as well. So much so, that she even has her _own_ set hairstylist, just for her and no one else, practically) go and do this, _basically_ every day of their lives!

It's _soooo_ super, doubly, and _outrageously_ unpleasant!

The hands part, while just as uncomfortable to get done (especially once the lady who was doing them started to push back my cuticles with one of her many manicurist kit tools), it paled in comparison to my _feet_.

Especially since, as an added bonus, the _guy_ was the one taking care of them, _instead_. . . .

Now, I'm not saying that my feet are _hideous_, or sandpaper, claw-like worthy.

They're all right, I guess.

I mean, for feet, and all.

But it still filled me with _great_ abashment to have this person, this _male_, caressing and _bathing_ them, one foot at a time, with a good deal of attention, before he, too, started in on the cuticles and such.

The _scrubbing_ was the worst part, oh, my God.

I _really_ felt more princess-like then, and the dude was like my _slave_, the way he scrub-a-dub dubbed the _hell_ out of both of my heels and ball of each foot.

And did he _have_ to look up at me from time to time as he did so?

It was like he had a secret _foot fetish_ or something, with his slightly better care of my feet than his female counterpart for my _hands_. . . .

It was certainly a good thing that the dryer's hot air continually blowing into my ears, as it dried my hair, was preventing me from hearing much of anything during that time, or else I probably would have ended up instantly _crying_ within furthered emotional discontent if either one of them had bothered to address me in any way. . . .

* * *

_5:20 pm. - 5:55 pm._

_Complete Facial and . . . Teeth Whitening with Mabelle Kalah_

No, I swear to God, I'm not kidding about that last one, there, Journal.

They.

Actually.

Whitened.

My.

_Teeth!_

Who _does_ that?

I mean, _really?_

Of all the things I was vaguely expecting to happen throughout this wacky misadventure of mine, getting an impromptu sort of teeth grooming done by someone who wasn't my regular dentist, _or _at least the usual dental hygienist chick who has cleaned them for me over the years was nowhere _near_ close to making the cut!

And even if it _had_ been either of them, instead, I _still_ wouldn't be cool with it, especially since it was so _publicized_, what with having been written on that stupid itinerary for everyone to follow!

After the automated timer had shut off the dryer, Malvina had come over to check to see if my hair was dry enough to her liking (which that seemed to be the case, anyway, since, when I'd briefly reached up to touch it, it was still a bit damp), before wrapping it within a pink colored towel wrap instead of another, actual towel.

And then, she'd done that and left my side again, regrettably leaving me alone (and without a noisy dryer to act as my communication shield any longer, since she'd wheeled that, and the portable sink away with her) with the Mani-Pedi duo, who were thankfully pretty much finished with applying their second, final coat of clear nail polish onto both my hands and feet (which, I will admit, did look much, _much_ better. Especially my fingernails, since I did always have a habit of biting them down to the stubs when I was younger, and now only sometimes partake within a nibble here and there whenever I'm feeling stressed . . . so you can _imagine_ how "_unseemly_" they might have looked to them beforehand).

I was managing to utter a faint, quick "Thank you" towards the both of them as they were rising to their feet with me (which, mine, at least, were then carefully cradled within a white colored pair of those salon sandals you wear after getting a pedicure, as _I_ sadly now have), when I suddenly heard the front doors to the suite open, and in comes both Mom, _and_ Tegan.

The both of them curiously looked every bit as exasperated as I definitely _felt_ by that point (well, I'm assuming sort of with Tegan since she, like every other Marsilian bodyguard I've met thus far, still had on her black tinted shades kept securely onto her pale countenance), which admittedly did make me feel a teeny bit better about everything.

You know, because now _Mom_ was finally here, and _she'd_ get to endure the living Hell _I'd_ been putting up with for the last hour or so now.

And then, even though I still didn't like her again (for the whole finding out that she'd cheated on Dean deal, yeah), I was also feeling naturally relieved to finally see a familiar face (well, you know, of the _familial_, comfort sort of sense), although I'd never let _her_ know it.

She took one look at me, then at the newfound surroundings with the Makeover Mob (who had mostly returned by then, but to partake within a "spot of tea and biscuits," which had both been set, I guess by one of the cooks, upon the elegant coffee table in front of the now roaring fireplace), and heaved a rather loud, fatigued sigh before dryly stating, ". . . . Now _this_ takes me back a ways. . . ."

I guess everyone had been so busy, with half of them tending to the various "stages" of my makeover process, while the rest were finishing off their tea as swiftly as possible, but without looking like a complete pig in front of royalty (Pfft. Who _cares?_), because none of them had honestly seemed to notice my mom's arrival just yet.

No one except myself, and maybe my former manicurist and pedicurist, anyway.

At least, none of them _had_, until she'd spoken, which was when the majority of them nearly dropped whatever it was they were holding onto (and quite possibly nearly _choked_ upon the cookies a few of them were eating, even), and swiftly turned to properly address and acknowledge her.

"Good evening, Your Highness!" pretty much all of them said, with near perfect precision, before bowing or curtsying again, _also_ with near perfect precision.

I couldn't help but to softly laugh right then at the sight, knowing all too well whatever Mom was currently thinking in that moment, based upon her scrunchy-face sort of expression right then, and the fact that that's pretty much how _I_ look and feel all the time now, whenever I, too, have to deal with avid attention like that.

Besides, a scrunchy-face full of vexation was better than a scrunchy-face full of _sadness_ and despair, which was usually how my mom's _been_ acting most of the time, like I've told you about.

I mean, not that I _care_ anymore, or anything . . . cough. . . .

_Anyway_, so just then, of course, stupid Eli finally makes a reappearance, emerging from his "forever sealed" office (I _wish_) with a surprisingly content expression upon his face.

You know, since, _usually_ whenever those two are within the same room as one another, it's anything _but_ fuzzy, warm feelings and comfort between them.

But, then again, he'd also been acting rather _un_-Eli-like since that afternoon, too . . . since that _morning_, actually, as well, I can remember again now.

I guess getting your complete way, pretty much 'round the clock will do that to a person.

"Ah! And, at _last_, the final piece to the proverbial puzzle has arrived!" Eli said within jest (or, at least what _he_ clearly thought to be a joke, since he let out a tiny chuckle afterward), before looking down at his wristwatch, yet again, and proceeded to do to my mom what he'd done to me when I first got here. "Even though you have arrived . . . twenty minutes _later_ than your expected arrival, there is still just enough time to get you as prepared as young Princess Wilhelmina, who was just on her way to have her teeth whitened, after Mabelle has finished giving her a facial."

While I'm sure that Mom was about to snap at him, just as I more or less had, myself, and tell him that there was most likely the usual rush hour to get through on her way back here from work as the probable cause for her tardiness, both she and I promptly let out a "_What?_" within unified perplexity to Eli's teeth whitening reveal.

Eli, even though I could then see a bit of discomfort at the dual 'unladylike" behavior from his royal kin, _and_ in front of so many people, nevertheless carried on with a tiny smile.

"_Come_ now, Princess Almira! Understandably, I can accept _Princess Wilhelmina's_ own flabbergast, however you and I had spent the better part of the previous evening within my office, privately discussing what was to occur for the both of you _this_ evening prior to our dinner. You _had_, after all, made it _quite_ clear to me that you wished to be continually informed of the Princess's current _and_ future royal affairs, after all. . . ." he trailed off with a small nod of his hair slicked back head, and I could catch the renewed bitterness and resentment he usually expressed within his voice whenever talking to my mom, even though he was probably trying his best to conceal it from the continually watching Makeover Mob all around us.

As though gearing up for a fist fight or something, Mom then quickly peeled off her long, black colored, golden buckled and figure hugging trench coat and blindly handed it to a briefly surprised Tegan (I _guess_, since she had a slightly delayed reaction before taking it and folding it within her arms, and then also before silently bowing and leaving the suite with it in hand), which then better revealed the unfamiliar, blue, long sleeve satin shirt and weird sort of female, wraparound scarf-tie thingamabob (which had this really neat looking, golden embroidery at the very top), and equally unfamiliar gray, wide flare dress pants. (You see what all these designer clothes constantly being thrown in my face all the time now has done to me, Journal? I'm starting to sound like _Cornelia_, here, actually kinda knowing what to call some of the apparel my mom had been wearing without being previously told. _So_ sad. . . .)

I bet all of her co-workers, _especially_ the males, were all the more pleased to have a real life princess working there at _Simultech_, now that my mom was pretty much forced, as I was, to dress within a much more snazzy sort of way each day now . . . especially with the various, newfound hairstyles she's _also_ been donning (other than the usual, free flowing or, in the case of work time, pulled back, tight bun), like the simple, yet still rather elegant half updo she was admittedly rocking at that moment . . . just like the rest of her overall appearance, I will also admit.

But, again, don't tell _her_ that. . . .

_Anyway_, so Mom's taking off her coat, and I'm moving closer to her (and looking like a cross between a duck and the Bride of Frankenstein, what with my hands kind of raised in front of me and fingers stretched apart to keep the clear nail polish from smudging, lest I wanted the manicurist chick to redo them, God _forbid_, and my waddle-walk with my feet for the same reason as my hands), but stopping short at the coffee table and stared at what I assumed to be the Peppermint Tea Eli had earlier instructed to be made on my behalf (yet everyone _else_ was getting to enjoy it well before _I_ was able to).

My headache, although it had died away a great deal somewhere in between my bath and hair . . . er, _re_-hair washing, mainly because it had been effortlessly replaced by the grand queasiness I was still experiencing up to that point, was gradually returning with a vengeance, and so I _really_ wanted that sort of promised cup of tea, before I went further with anything else.

And especially now at hearing about a blasted _teeth whitening?_

I was about ready to demand that someone _spike_ the damned drink.

Is that even _legal?_

This having someone who wasn't your regular dentist just come out of nowhere, and clean your teeth in that way, even if they might be certified or whatever you wanna call it, I mean?

There's _gotta_ something about that somewhere, I just _know_ it, especially since Eli's involved.

But then again, even if there is, he's got his stupid diplomatic immunity going for him, anyhow. . . .

At any rate, I was practically _eating_ the freaking tea cup I had swiftly grabbed onto a few seconds later, I was swallowing the warm, minty beverage that fast, while some of the nearby Makeover Mob watched within surprise, and _Eli_ was busy ushering Mom into his office just then, most likely to tell her off in private, while _she_ gave _him_ the same amount of "courtesy" in return, I'm sure.

Even though I still wasn't sure that this was an on the up and up procedure (although, now that I think about it, since it was Eli, _again_, I say, and being the sneaky _demon_ he generally is, probably did a little quick digging, found out who was my regular dentist, and had her fax some sort of consent forms or something, just so I wouldn't complain. He must _have_ done something close to that, honestly, since Mom didn't bar him from allowing things to proceed, unfortunately . . . or at least give him a black eye or something, once the two of them had reemerged from his office), the next thing I know, I'm being directed out of the suite, into the "long hall of endless doors" (as I now call it) momentarily, and into one of them . . . the first door on the left, and the only one left wide open, to be more specific.

I only got to see my mom briefly before all this happened, and although she still looked pretty pissed off about everything, she did manage to give me one of the many apologetic smiles she's pretty much _been_ giving me since the very start of my lame, royal journey, before saying that she would see me in a bit, and walked towards her bedroom to start getting ready, I guess.

What sort of fighting within my honor was _that?_

It's like she was being _blackmailed_ to keep her mouth shut, or something, you know?

I mean, the way she just caved fairly easily, evidently, and let Eli carry on with his stupid plans.

But then, I guess she sort of _was,_ or _is_, or whatever you want to say, due to her obvious and admitted guilt for abandoning her motherland and family to pursue her own desires. . . .

_Still!_

That didn't make all of this suck any _less_, that's for damned sure.

At least now I know where all of those elaborate gadgets had come from, like Malvina's portable sink and the spa chair and such, and where the Makeover Mob had vanished off to when they weren't yet up to bat, themselves, since the new, much smaller room (which was another private hotel room, not as suite-ish, but still every bit as fancy. I'm going to assume that all of the other doors on this floor are also extended private rooms, as well, and if they _are_, then I'm about ready to move into one of them, instead, since I'd be _completely_ separated from the suite . . . and more importantly, _Eli_) was fairly cluttered with various pieces of equipment.

And, out of what I presumed to be the bathroom door, to the far right corner of the main area of the room, came a grinning Mabelle (no surprise, though. About the avid smiling, I mean), looking every bit as eager as her twin sister to get started.

I expected one of the other no name people to come out of the bathroom with her, but nope.

It was _just_ her . . . which, while it was, again, a little _less_ discomforting, this overall process, thanks to being greeted by a fairly familiar face, I was nonetheless feeling rather confused at that moment (you know, besides the angry, less headache-y, but still pretty nauseated feelings I was also feeling then).

Mainly because, as _I'd_ understood it thus far, anyway, Mabelle was just a simple (well, okay, so maybe not _so_ "simple," since I know that _I_ couldn't put on makeup anywhere _near_ as flawlessly or as admittedly nice as _she_ always does for me) makeup artist.

I wasn't aware that she _also_ dabbled within whitening people's teeth, of all things, as well.

Although, I guess, now that I think about it, that's _sort_ of a part of your face, too, and the overall physical appearance of it, right?

So I suppose it kinda makes a little sense.

In any event, Mabelle basically said as much, after she probably caught the perplexed, and greatly apprehensive stare I was giving to her once I'd approached, and the general door was closed behind me by _whomever_.

She gave me another curtsy within greeting, before speaking.

"Thank you for allowing me to do this for you, Your Highness! Ooh, and I see that my sister has finished taking care of your beautiful hair for the time being - Oh! And that you've _also_ completed your manicure and pedicure! _Wonderful! _Then we're _right_ on schedule!" she said with a smiling nod of approval, before stepping aside and extending her left arm out towards the open bathroom door for me to enter. "Please! After _you_, Princess Wilhelmina! Your facial should not take up much time, I am quite positive, which we will do _first_, before proceeding to your teeth whitening - Which, by the way, I am _more_ than capable of conducting, if I do say so myself. You are in good hands, Your Highness!"

"U-Uh . . . I . . . _hope_ so," I weakly responded, before unconsciously sealing my lips up a bit too tightly, and suddenly ruing my recently enacted decision to drink _tea_, of all things.

And why couldn't _Eli_ have been useful for once and _stopped_ me from doing so (not that I think he even noticed when I'd had some, since he had been busy contending against Mom at the time)?

Then again, he _was_ the one to order some for me no problem, like I said. I guess he figured, "What the Hell! She's gonna have her teeth go from banana _yellow_ to smooth, coconut meat _white_ in a little while, _anyway!_", or something.

At any rate, I was still feeling _very_ self conscious about all of it (even if it _was_ at least going to be done in private . . . which made me wonder why I couldn't have gotten my _pedicure_ and everything _else_ so far done within _this_ hotel room instead, too, but whatever), especially once I'd walked into the fairly large, just-as-decorative-and-fancy bathroom, and saw what I now know to be the portable teeth whitening lamp propped up in between the sink and bathtub.

_First_, though, I was thinking to myself, _What the Hell is __that__ thing?,_ then I was thinking,_ Is absolutely __everything__ portable nowadays?_, as I slowly made my way further into the bathroom, so that Mabelle could follow inside.

I'm gonna be perfectly honest with you here, Journal.

The thing seriously looked like one of those old, overhead projectors teachers use on occasion during their lessons.

And if no one had told me, prior to, that I was about to have my teeth whitened with it, I would've thought I was about to experience a _tutoring_ session, instead.

I mean, you really had to see it for yourself, I guess.

But it really _did_ look like a damned overhead projector, the way it had the same sort of design, with its overhead light attached to its bulk area, or whatever you wanna call it, where all of its buttons on how to make it work was.

It, just like everything else (except for my pink hued head wrap), I've thus far noticed, was also white colored (I wonder if that's not one of Eli's favorite colors or something?), although the aforementioned buttons were aqua in shade, and was resting on top of a roll-about table of the same color (white, of course).

And then, in front of the lamp was what I guess was a black colored (_Gasp!_ Another new color!) facial chair with wheels underneath . . . although it sort of also looked like a dental chair, which, given the current circumstances, would have been appropriate, as well, I guess.

Anyway, and then, lastly, next to the chair to the right, was all of Mabelle's equipment, I suppose, as well as the usual lavender colored cosmetic caboodle thing I always see her bring with her whenever she comes to do my makeup. ("My makeup." _Cringe_. . . .)

"Please take a seat, Your Highness, and we shall begin!" the auburn haired young woman kindly requested from behind me, before moving around me to stand at her "station," I guess, and waited for me to do so.

I did without a word, as I still seemed to prefer to keep my mouth sealed tightly. Mabelle unfortunately took notice of this (but then, of _course_ she would, really, being that the facial area _is_ her expertise and all) and softly giggled, much to my added dismay.

"There is no need to worry at all, Princess Wilhelmina! I can assure you that this procedure is quite safe, if done correctly - Which I always _do_, of course - and absolutely _painless!_" she spoke within a bit of furthered explanation to what was about to happen, before picking up a large, soft blue colored jar from off of the long tray which housed all of her assorted beauty-enhancing tools. "Although, if you do not mind my saying so, I do not personally believe that it will do much of a difference, as your teeth are _already_ quite lovely. . . ."

Aww.

I could have possibly (_Possibly_, now) hugged her right then, if I wasn't still feeling so uneasy, and also unsure of whether she truly meant it or not.

Regardless, I still managed to slowly unfurl my lips upon hearing this, and exhaled loudly before swallowing.

". . . . All right . . . thank you, Mabelle," I said, with a small nod of vague consent as I looked up at the beaming woman standing patiently next to me, before I then took a proper look at the jar she held within her hands. ". . . . Wait, what is that? Is that the stuff you're gonna put in my mouth to help make it white? M-My _teeth_, that is?"

Mabelle shook her wavy head and smiled warmly, before carefully beginning to open the large jar.

"No, of _course_ not, Your Highness! For _one_ thing, nothing will be put 'within your mouth,' as you had put it, but merely _coated_ onto your _teeth_. But we will get to that in due time. Right _now_, however, is your facial, which is what this jar is for - Er, what is _inside_ of it, that is," she replied as she politely corrected me, setting down the now unscrewed top to what appeared to be some sort of gooey, white (There we go again) substance inside. "You see, this right here, is quite effective, as well as quite sought-_after_ Icelandic Silica Mud, which will swiftly deep clean and exfoliate your skin, while simultaneously rejuvenating it, to give it a naturally healthy glow and smooth, evened appearance!"

I raised an eyebrow within slight intrigue upon listening to Mabelle's informative intro to the gunk she was about to plaster all over my face, and watched her as she gingerly dipped two fingers into it before moving a little bit closer to me.

"Are you ready then, Princess Wilhelmina? Forgive me a moment, as this will be a tad chill at first," she said within forewarning.

I just nodded within understanding, and leaned back a bit within the spa chair, as Mabelle briefly returned her slightly coated right hand back to the open jar to retrieve more of the uniquely white colored mud, and then began the fairly quick process of slathering my entire face and neck (which was really hard for me to sit still for, as I'm _very_ ticklish there) with the stuff.

She, much like her sibling, _also_ immediately became completely immersed within her work (as always, seems like), with an honest look of peacefulness then enveloping her face.

It made me feel a little bit envious to witness, yet again, from another person, yet marvel at, all at the same time.

I mean, it must be nice to wake up every day and get to do what you love for a living, you know?

I can only hope that _I'll_ be so lucky with whatever it is I eventually end up doing as my _own_ profession (although, if Eli gets his way even more, I know I definitely _won't_ be, since it'll involve attending a _truckload_ of boring balls and other such events, kissing a bunch of _babies_, or something, and _more_ etiquette crap or _whatever_ else princesses do with their time).

Anyhow, once Mabelle had finished with applying the mud mask, and quickly moved over to the bathroom sink to wash her hands clean of it, she then came back around and lifted up a covered, lavender, ceramic bowl.

"And now, _these_," she began with a slowly returning smile as she looked down at me, and blindly uncovered the bowl in hand to reveal that it was filled with sliced cucumber pieces, "I am quite positive you are _more_ familiar with, Your Highness - What they are and are used for within this manner, that is, not that you _personally_ need to use them often! _Regardless_, I will simply place a couple over your eyes and let them stay there for a little bit, while I take care of your teeth whitening in the meanwhile, all right?"

I felt myself swallowing hard once more at this (the teeth thing, not the cucumbers) within returned nervousness, but I nodded again anyway.

I _did_ have one question left first, though.

A rather stupid one, at that.

Well, how it had come out, anyway.

"You're not gonna give me _cancer_ or anything, are you?"

Yep.

That'd come out of my mouth (with no real surprise, I say _only_ for the trillionth time, now, for just about _anything_ I say lately).

Mabelle blinked her blue eyes a couple times at this within natural perplexity, before quickly recovering her senses and gently chuckled once again. (_Bleh_.)

"O-Oh! No, of _course_ not, Princess Wilhelmina! Allow me to further explain this process, if you will, then," she started with her usual confidence where her profession was concerned, setting down and recovering the bowl of temporarily forgotten cucumbers a moment, before moving towards the teeth whitening machine on the other side. "You see, the two most important components to the overall teeth whitening process are the whitening agent - In this, as well as majority of cases, hydrogen peroxide gel - and a whitening accelerator, which would be the lamp you see before you. After I have applied the gel onto your teeth, I will then place said lamp directly in front of them - Which, that part, I will need your cooperation and ask that you not shift around within your seat too much, or get the natural urge to rub your tongue against your newly coated teeth. The light, which is blue, by the way, is quite cold to the touch, so do not be alarmed, as it is merely necessary to assist within the acceleration process. Oh, and before you may ask, Your Highness, the entire process should take no longer than the usual amount of time for my other clients of the past, which is around fifteen to twenty minutes. . . . And once we have finished with everything here, you will be more than welcome to rinse out your mouth a little bit, as sometimes the gel can leave a slightly odd taste and feeling within one's mouth afterward."

_Boy_, did the woman know her stuff.

Feeling that there wasn't honestly anything left to ask (or _stall_ over), I merely gave a quick "All right, thank you" for her having taken the time to explain it all to me, before I settled back into my seat, and she quickly went back around to placed the cucumbers over my eyes, then began her dental treatment.

I would have felt that much more nervous about it, I mean, given that I was now going into it blindly, thanks to the cucumbers concealing my eyes, but after Mabelle's well-informed speech, I was actually feeling a lot more calm now . . . even a teeny tiny bit _relaxed_.

Teeny tiny.

The having to open my mouth wide, have the cool gel applied onto my teeth, and then keep my mouth open just as wide while an even _colder_ blast of light suddenly hit me in the face was a bit . . . awkward (There's that word again), true, especially not being able to see any of it happening, but I actually kind of think that that's part of what helped even me out, though.

_Because_ I couldn't see any of it, or Mabelle as she did it, which undoubtedly would have made me feel that much more self conscious all over again, I think.

Needless to say, it was still a pretty . . . new experience, _definitely_.

Don't know if I'd ever do it _again_, though, but at least I wouldn't be _as_ dragging my feet over it if I ever did do it the next time around.

And I gotta say, too, Journal, that my teeth honestly _did_ look significantly brighter.

Okay, so maybe not _super_ super sparkly, within the you'll go blind if you look directly at them sort of way, perhaps.

But I really _could_ see a pretty good distinction, after Mabelle was all finished with me and left me alone for a few moments to wash my face clean of the Icelandic mud, and swish my mouth clean of the hydrogen peroxide gel.

Maybe I was just imagining it, _I_ don't know.

But I checked out my teeth just now before I hopped into the bathtub, and they're _still_ looking pretty pearly.

_Man_, do I sound _really_ vain, there. . . .

Whatever!

_Point_ is, the woman knows her sh - er, _stuff_, as I'd said, and did a good job in _my_ book, at least.

* * *

_5:55 pm. - 6:30 pm._

_Hair Drying and Styling with Malvina Kalah, and Evening Wardrobe Consultation with Juvela Lefèvre_

After I'd finished washing and drying my face off (which really _did_ look suddenly "aglow" with new life, or whatever the hell Mabelle had said the mud mask would do) and rinsed out my mouth (_and_ brushed and _flossed_ them, just in case, of my own prompting . . . even though there _was_ a small bottle of green tinted mouthwash and a state-of-the-art, brand new electric toothbrush, toothpaste _and_ package of mint flavored dental floss "conveniently" set onto the sink area. The teeth brushing was a little bit difficult for me to do at first, though, since they had been starting to feel a tad sensitive and tingly, which I _guess_ was from the whitening process, but that died down after a few passing moments), I exhaled gruffly before letting myself out of the bathroom.

Mabelle was on the other side of the previously closed door, evidently having waited patiently for me to exit so that she could thank me for my cooperation and inform me that she would return to the suite a little later on to do my makeup, before she curtsied as I was leaving. She then also let me know that I would find a series of other helpful beauty regiment products (such as a dual cleanser and toner, an exfoliating night cream, and more of the same Icelandic Silica Mud, that I only now noticed upon my return into this bathroom) within the bathroom I regularly use back within the suite.

I didn't have the heart to break it to her that not only was I not a dutiful, beauty regiment kind of girl, but also that the night cream, especially, would not _be_ there on my face anymore in the morning once I woke up the next day, since I do tend to roll around a lot within my sleep.

So instead, I simply thanked her in return for the whole treatment, as well as the newfound beauty products, before I left her to most likely put away all of her supplies.

When I got back to the suite, looking down at my feet and hands especially to make sure that everything was still a-okay (you know, since I'd just finished washing my face, and brushing my teeth and all) just in case, I saw everyone was gone again, most likely now busy poring all of their attention onto Mom, _blessedly_.

The only two people present was Malvina, once more, and super-cutey Juvela, who had finally reappeared from _wherever_ she had gone off to prior to.

Each woman came prepared, of course, with Malvina and the usual, black colored styling chair and station she usually has rolled out and waiting for me every school morning, and Juvela standing next to a whole line of various evening gowns of different colors and design delicately hanging from a wheeled in clothing rack.

And then, beneath each dress were, of all things, _high heel shoes_, which she _clearly_ expected me to wear.

High heels?

_Me?_

And within snowy, _slippery_ weather?

I could _still_ fall down while wearing a pair, even if someone put _Velcro_ or something to help keep me erect a little better.

And, _besides_ any of that, most importantly, I _hate_ high heel shoes.

I truly, _truly_ do.

Even if I _weren't_ a tomboy and more prone to being attracted to other, _much_ more sensible footwear like sneakers or flip flops, for example, I _still_ wouldn't like them.

How do women stand (_literally_) to wear them day in and day out, as some of them honestly do?

They're always pinching at your toes, and hurting your heels _horribly_, and leaving you feeling _so_ ridiculously drained by the time you take them off, because it felt like an honest _workout_ having them on and trying to walk in them the entire time.

And they wanted _me_, of all people, to wear them.

_Mom_, I know would have zero problem, though, even _with_ the wintry weather going on outside, since she could probably do a bunch of _back flips_, while _sleepwalking_, at that, within a pair, I'll bet, since she owns a great deal of 'em, after all.

She's _even_ worn a few to work sometimes, too . . . well, not any of her more fancy, _higher_ heeled ones, anyway.

You know, just one of those black, plain yet sleek kind a lot of _other_ women-on-the-go seem to enjoy wearing, which, for the _life_ of me, doesn't make any sort of sense no matter _how_ you slice it, because a good majority of said women (_including_ Mom) are busy running back and forth for _hours_ on end at their jobs.

And then they all wonder (again, including my mom) why their feet are _killing_ them by the end of the day. . . .

At any rate, I was then beginning to let a full string of obscenities filter into my brain in that moment, before fleetingly gazing at the long, black velvet clothed table set up to the left of the clothing rack, which housed a good deal of different pieces of glittery, diamond jewelry.

I would have felt just as exasperated over _that_ sight, as well, except I was slowly beginning to grow accustomed to seeing diamonds, diamonds, _diamonds_, pretty much everyday now, for me to wear.

Didn't make it any less "Oh, my _God!_", in the apprehensive sort of way, to see, though.

So, anyhow, both Juvela and Malvina did their usual curtsying at my returned presence, and smiled ear to ear as I automatically took a seat within the salon chair without having to be asked, since it was obvious what was about to go down, anyhow.

And, again, I was at least used to, if not fully accepting, of _this_ particular process, so it wasn't _too_ nerve-wracking . . . although, this _was_ a "pretty special occasion," as everyone kept putting it every which way I turned, which meant that Malvina was most likely going to go all out with my hair this time.

Maybe put a _peacock_ within it, or something, _who_ knows. . . .

Anyway, so while she started to "work her magic," so to speak (and immediately back within the zone and so, therefore, silent for pretty much the entire time), taking off the pink towel wrap which had been continually sheltering my moist hair up until that moment, before then carefully beginning to comb it out (and spraying into it some of that strawberry scented leave-in conditioner she usually does each morning), Juvela then took the helm and honestly gave, what felt like to _me_, at least, a fashion show.

I mean, because I was sat there within the chair, with Malvina snip-snip-_snipping_ at my ends, and parting and pinning up some sections of my hair, while continuing to comb out the rest, and when I wasn't softly asked to bend my head down a little bit in order for the nape of my neck to also be properly tended to, I was stuck having to pay "avid" attention onto the lady who evidently knows damn near _everything_ about style and fashion.

First, she began to explain to me that each gown was personally hand selected by her, yet again, including the shoes and jewelry. (Well, duh.)

_Then_, she started in on how she didn't really wish to overdo my look for my premiere outing with the King (Good looking out, _there_, at least), but still wanted to give me an "stunningly eye-catching appeal," as she'd put it.

So, first, let's rundown the . . . runner-up dresses, I guess you can call them, before revealing the one I'd . . . er, _Juvela_ . . . well, _we_ had more or less chosen together, okay, damn it?

Bah.

● _In Last Place: An Aqua Colored, 'Obre Evening Gown,' with a pair of 'The Ideal Evening Sandal Shoes'_

This one was admittedly not bad, though, downright pretty, even, and the color did suit its overall design . . . but I honestly would have felt as though I were going to a _Toga_ party, instead, or something, since it was so . . . Greek Goddess-reminiscent to look at.

It had, as Juvela confidently described to me, while she gingerly held it up at her side for me to get a better look at, "ample straps at the shoulder area here, which upholds the gown's v-neck bodice and stunning, sparkling band around the waist that assists within further showing off your hourglass figure, Your Highness. (_Ha_, to that one, I must quickly interject a moment over, sorry.) And then, from this beaded, empire waist a little further down _here_, comes tiers and _tiers_ of the most soft and _silky_ ruffles, which I personally believe is what helps to make the overall gown, not just the skirt region, _beautifully_ one of a kind. And finally, let us not forget about the back, as you can see when I turn it around, it shows off one's bare, upper back, with its dual, sparkling and much thinner straps going down either side, and further aiding to draw that much more attention to it. And, as you can see here, as well, the rear view of the skirt area has a little bit more of white hues intermingling with the general aqua shade of the gown, which I feel gives it a _wonderfully_ trickling, sort of waterfall like effect when gazed upon. . . ."

I've said it before, and I'll say it again.

_This_ chick, too, really knows her stuff, _hands_ down.

I don't know _how_ she got all of that just by looking at this dress, and found herself able to describe it within such a descriptive, positive light, but I was certainly impressed.

Had it been left up to _me_, with the shoe on the other foot, I would have probably just picked it up and simply said something like, ". . . . It's an evening dress. And it's blue. _Enjoy_," before shoving it into her hands.

Now, as for the accompanying pair of shoes, they had been rather subdued in contrast to the gown, which I didn't at all mind, of course.

However, the reason for that was, "being that the skirt of this gown is, like the majority of the other gowns I have selected for you, Princess Wilhelmina, a bit long by nature, any particular pair of shoes you would choose to wear with it will naturally be concealed - That is, with the exception of such times when you would be seated, of course. And so, with that in mind, I have selected these open toed, crisscrossing sandal shoes, which is about three or so inches long within heel height, made of shimmering, glitter fabric and champagne in color. This particular shade is quite subtle, yet effective, as is the shoes' overall design, and helps to compliment the gown's much more extravagant appearance, but also still has its _own_ beautiful appeal," Juvela continued on within her attire briefing, after having put the aqua hued gown back onto the rack and picked up its coordinated shoes to give me a better view of them.

Yeah.

They _would_ have been the "ideal evening sandal shoe" for me, if they were actually _traditional_ sandals, of the thong, going-to-be-beach type of sandals, instead.

And, what had she said? "Three or so inches long," heel wise?

I'm sorry, but _no_.

Honestly, on _that_ principal _alone_, more than anything about the gown, as well, did I promptly turn down Juvela's first unveiling . . . which she had seemed a tiny bit disappointed and surprised over, I guess really thinking I might have really liked everything overall, maybe.

Nonetheless, she moved onto the next.

● _In Fifth Place: A Deep Red, 'Alluring Formal Gown,' with a pair of 'Satin and Crystal Sandals'_

Now, actually, when I think back on it, _this_ particular gown, _and_ shoes should have been in last place, instead, since it was _sooo_ so not anything I would _ever_ have the guts to wear out in public, and _especially_ not while within the company of _Eli_, of all people, either.

Juvela, as well, did freely admit that this gown, of them all, was slightly pushing the envelope a little bit, both for a premiere event as well as for my age, but she'd wanted to give me a well rounded array of gowns which showcased distinctly different styles and impressions.

_Chyea_.

And if I _had_ chosen this one, it certainly would have given the general public the "_impression_" that I was a slowly budding, potential _Sex_ _Goddess_, perhaps. . . .

Once more, as described to me by Juvela, "this gown, made of poly chiffon fabric, is, as you can see, within near perfect contrast to our first gown's _promptly_ eye-catching appeal, in terms of intricate design. However, as its name dictates, this evening gown is still quite the alluring one all its own, with its classic, strapless design which effortlessly shows off one's shoulders rather nicely, and features a sweetheart neckline for added, sensual appeal. Now, the bodice area is further defined, as you can see, Your Highness, by the sparkling lines of beautiful white rhinestones above, in between and beneath the cleavage. The biggest thing, _I_ think, that makes this gown all the more flattering, is how the skirt region flows ever so gently out, from the hips and trickles down to the floor, allowing it to possess a crossed feeling of both sexy, _yet_ still a bit refined. And, of course, as I am sure you have noticed by now, the front of the skirt also has a deep slit, providing the wearer the ability to show off a bit of leg. . . . And, finally, the rear view, while seemingly plain and also backless, still features yet another, two lines of impressive rhinestones just beneath one's shoulder blades, and here, above the buttocks. . . ."

Hell-freaking-_no_ was I going to choose _this_ gown!

"Show off a bit of leg?"

_Nevvvvver_ gonna happen!

And then, on _top_ of that, the dress just _had_ to be that "come hither, big boy!" _red_ shade, as well?

In _that_ case, I may as well have changed my name to "_Jessica_," like after that fictional, female character who was married to that zany bunny of equal fabrication, then.

I mean, I _already_ have the red hair, and now I'd have the right sort of _dress_, _and_ color. . . .

And oh, the _shoes!_

My _word_, the shoes!

I won't bother to lie, here, and say that these weren't much, _much_ more beautiful than the first pair, and looked like the kind of pair every woman everywhere wouldn't practically _kill_ to have - _And_ for free (since they honestly looked to be priced at _least_ one thousand dollars, starting price, I'd wager), the way they were for _me_.

I won't.

But they were just, I mean, _just_ under _five inches_ in height!

HOW DO YOU WOMEN WALK WITHIN THESE CONTRAPTIONS?

Juvela (who clearly seemed to hold a special sort of affinity for the pair, the way she almost cradled them within the both of her hands) was all, "these nude colored, Silk Satin and Crystal Platform Sandals _definitely_ have much more flare and glamor, than say the previous pair! _However_, seeing as the accompanying gown, while as long as the first, _does_ that slit to better reveal your footwear more often than not, you can afford to wear something much more bedazzled upon your feet this time around. And while these are also _a lot_ higher within height - Four-Point-Eight inches, to be more precise - and thus perhaps making them a _tad_ more difficult to walk in, I suppose, they are _still_ very elegant, and provide the ultimate evening exemplar."

Nope.

_Next_.

● _In Fourth Place: A Lavender, 'Pleaded Sweetheart-Neck Gown,' with a pair of 'Sleek Open Toe Sandals'_

This gown was definitely, _definitely_ a lot more toned down (well, for _my_ personal taste, anyway . . . assuming that I even _have_ a set sort of "taste").

No legs being able to pop out anywhere, or anything.

The only bit of me which _would_ be exposed were my arms . . . oh, and my back, _twice_ over.

Well, you'll get what I mean by that in a sec.

"This new gown clearly takes the much more _sophisticated_ look than is predecessor, Your Highness, with its stylish, pleated, sweetheart-neck design and strapless nature, which showcases one's bare shoulders _beautifully_, in my opinion. . . . And also, the pleated bodice accentuates the breasts with a scintillating, crystal brooch right here at the center. _From_ the brooch region, too, the overall silky material curves past the thighs and hips, before spilling ever so daintily down to the feet. And one last, but _certainly_ not least, eye-drawing feature, is the very back, which is _gorgeously_ backless, with just a strip of material and matching brooch across the center of the back, to provide an elegant, sort of diamond shape just around the small one's back. . . ."

So, yeah, see?

Like I said, the back is _twice_ exposed, kinda, since the overall gown's strapless, but there's that bit of fabric at the center, which sort of acts like a brief divider between the top half of your back, and the bottom.

Even though I wasn't _too_ thrilled about that part (since this particular dress exposed my back the most thus far), this was the first gown I'd seen that I could have come a bit close to saying, "Fine, I'll put the stupid thing on," or something.

It really _did_ have that air of sophistication and "quiet" sort of elegance that I could live with, since I definitely didn't want to draw any _further_ attention to myself than what I was undoubtedly going to receive, as soon as I stepped outside of the hotel to head into the limousine later.

But that fancy back design would have certainly given me more stares than I could have handled, I was sure, so I had to scrap it.

And then, as for the shoes, I would have actually chosen _them_, as well, if only they had been a lot shorter, heel wise.

Like say, _zero_ inches.

They were _four_ inches, instead, the same color as the gown (lavender), "partially wrapped, and open toe stiletto heels, with a series of crystals intricately placed along the toe line. While perhaps appearing just as 'simplistic' as the very first pair of sandals, _these_ are a timeless sort of design, and are still every bit as exquisite as the _rest_," Juvela had explained with pride, evidently finding a personal sort of connection to this much more plainer piece of footwear, as well.

And I silently agreed with her, too.

Less _was_ more, as the case seemed to be for them.

And since the gown was doing another concealing trick as the very first one, where being able to see what I was wearing on my feet was concerned, it also seemed appropriate, as well.

But, alas . . . the _heels_.

Moving on.

● _In Third Place: A 'Majestic' Purple, 'Bonny Strapless Gown,' with a pair of 'Black Luster Satin Low Heel Sandals'_

The "low heel" part already had me pretty much sold, even _before_ I paid much attention to the actual dress that went with it, _or_ the overall design of the shoes.

I could just easily _see_ how distinctly shorter within height they were to the others, as they remained on the floor for a few more moments before being properly introduced to me by Juvela.

In the meantime, the gown, as well, was something I also would have chosen, primarily because, unlike the one right before it, the back was _really_ plain.

Nothing eye-catching, fancily designed, or splattered with various beads and brooches anywhere to be found.

It was _perfect_ . . . except for the fact that the _front_, instead, was where all the attention was being focused on, which, of course, was even _worse_, if you catch my drift.

To be fair, though, it wasn't anything honestly super "Oh, good _gravy! _No, _way!_", if at all, really.

As Juvela put it, it was a "'bonny,' or _attractive_, strapless gown with yet another, sweetheart neckline, accented wonderfully by crystal beading, which subtly, although further draws the attention to the bodice area. And below the bust, here, the dress is creased, or gathered just at the top, before pleating down and then falling free to the center of the skirt. This gown, in particular, I truly believe gives off quite the _profound_ air of royalty, especially with its rich, breathtaking and _indeed_ befitting hue name of '_Majestic_ Purple. . . .'"

And _that_, more than anything else (like the heart-shaped bodice area, which ever so sneakily revealed a bit of my _cleavage_ line, there), was the primary reason I'd axed _this_ one, too.

The shoes, however, even though they _were_ kind of on the "ugly" side (but that really shouldn't matter to me, anyway, since I hate high heeled shoes, _regardless_), I really _would_ have taken separately, like I said, but Juvela (who, although she remained persistent, still seemed to be getting quite exasperated now, judging by her tightening face and more frequent exhales, the poor thing) said something about how they wouldn't go with the two remaining gowns, anyway or whatever.

They did this weird, crisscrossing at the top, but also a bow tie sort of crisscross at the bottom near the toe area, as well, and were _completely_ covered within more rhinestones than I could _count_.

It _would_ figure that the only pair I did find rather beautiful so far were _monster_ size in terms of heel length, while the only ones which were, thus far, a height I _could_ manage were pretty damned . . . well, _hideous_.

● _In Second Place: A 'Sunshine' Colored, 'Chiffon Strapless Gown (with Optional Spaghetti Straps),' with a pair of 'Silk Satin Bowed Sandals'_

And then _this_ dress had sort of the reverse problem as the _previous_ one.

Well, not really.

I mean, the back to it was also pretty generic, too, I guess, and it did also have the same sort of heart-shaped sort of bodice area, as well, only the cleavage area wasn't anywhere _near_ as dipped down.

So I could live with _that_.

I could _even_ live with the . . . funky sort of design it had going on, on the front left hand side, just beneath the left breast.

It had three, relatively big roses (fake, of course), all bunched up together and forming a triangular sort of shape, while the rest of the front area did that creasing thing Juvela spoke about for the other gown, just underneath the roses (before doing that pleating out thing, too) and even diagonally across them, coming from beneath the right arm, which spread down to the side corner of the right hip.

So it basically formed a sideways sort of triangle, itself, I suppose.

But, yeah.

I could have handled the jumbled roses, since, all things considered, this gown was the most plain of them all, if you didn't have them there at all, since there weren't any other added trinkets or what have you, either.

So, it was pretty much a keeper for me . . . had it not been for the _color_.

_Ugh_, was it horrible.

"Sunshine."

_Pfft_.

I would have looked like a giant stick of _butter_ if I had chosen _that_ dress, Journal, seriously.

And it wasn't even one of those rich, makes-you-feel-warm-to-look-at yellow, goldish sort of shades, _either_.

It honestly looked as though it had gone through the wash several hundred times, before eventually becoming the slightly faded and worn out tint that it had been.

"Sunshine," my _foot_.

The shoes, though, which were doing the "nude" shade like one of the other pairs, too, were kinda . . . cute, I guess.

I mean, that's honestly the only way to have described them, as I'm sure everyone _else_ who's ever seen them before me have either thought or said the same.

Probably even the _designer_, as he or she was drawing the final sketches, before handing them off to the manufacturers, who'd _also_ probably squealed out the same descriptive word.

_Cute_.

Because they could have been a pair of shoes you might have your _little girl_ wear to one of her birthday parties . . . when she's still around _four_ or _five-years-old_.

I mean, the overall design was exactly the same as the "ugly pair" before them, within the crisscrossing straps at the top and toe area (except the bottom was a little less "bow tie-ish"), so that wasn't anything special.

And, of course, they were yet _another_ tall pair of shoes, four inches, to be exact.

But it was the rather large, _glaring_ satin bow that did it, as it "sat," perfectly placed on the right, outer side heel area of one of them, and then the left, outer side of the _other_ (which Juvela had commented about how "charming" they were, and added a sort of fun flare to the overall look, in addition to the "inviting roses adorning the front of the gown." . . . . _No_).

So that's _two_ freaking bows I'd have to contend with, even _if_ no one else would ever know about them until I sat down and such.

_I'd_ still know the rest of the time, and that was enough for me.

● _In First Place: A Soft Pink, 'Chiffon Satin Strapless Gown,' with a pair of 'Gold Metallic Mid Heel Strappy Sandals'_

_Finally_, we get to the dress I had ultimately chosen.

And it was a good thing, too (that I'd chosen it, that is), since there literally weren't any more to choose from any longer.

I think I might have dented Juvela's confidence more than I thought (although, not that I was actively _trying_ to), and most probably more than she would have ever _cared_ for, because by the time she had gotten to this last gown, the enthusiasm within her tone of voice had greatly waned.

And that did make me feel pretty bad to have caught notice of, and I probably would have told her as much, but by then I was _already_ feeling quite enamored with the little number she'd held within her hands.

_Yes_, I said it.

I will openly state (to _you_, anyway) that I really and _truly_ liked (and still like) the gown I ended up wearing out to dinner last night.

I do.

And yes, even though it _was_ pink, and said shade, even that of softer hues like this one had been, is never really a super treat for fellow redheads to wear because of the "clashing" thing it tends to do . . . well, _I've_ never honestly had an issue with wearing pink before, just like I haven't with wearing green and the whole "Green and redheads go together, forever!" thing, just 'cause red and green generally compliment one another.

But, its overall design _was_ just up my alley, in terms of pretty simple, but still pretty . . . well, pretty enough for _me_ to wear, at like a school dance, or something.

And, _best_ of all, it was _extremely_ "blending in" worthy all the way, too, with its "sleeveless, strapless neckline and charming appeal, satin faux ribbon wrapped beneath the breast, high-low hemline, and empire waist silhouette," Juvela described pretty listlessly, turning the gown front, to back, and front again for me to get a better look at it.

And then she showed me the last pair of shoes which, even though they were _still_ a bit too high for my liking, three inches even, I was willing to grin and bear it since they, too, were pretty subdued within design.

It was "metallic gold, with ankle straps and soft colored rhinestones which sparklingly line the triple straps at the toes," Juvela also took enough care to depict, her pep slowly returning when, I guess, she could then catch my more receptive demeanor.

And then, after letting everything, and I _do_ mean _everything_ sink in for a few moments, I finally made an actual decision which, as I'd already told you, ended up being both these shoes and gown.

At this, Juvela let a small, sort of satisfactory squeal, at the same time that she'd clapped her hands sharply and clasped them together after having set down the "winning" shoes.

"Ah! Yes! _Thank_ you, Princess Wilhelmina! To be quite honest, I'd sort of had the _distinct_ inkling that you might have fancied this specific gown, in addition to its accompanying shoes!" she said with greatly renewed vigor, before continuing on. "And just in time, as well, it seems, as I can see that your hair is just about _finished! _Well _done_, Miss Kalah - _Another_ masterpiece!"

I blinked within surprise at this, as I'd honestly forgotten all about Malvina, who had been deathly silent throughout the entire clothing tutorial, as well as the fact that she had been busy tending to my hair in the meanwhile.

I then blindly reached up to carefully touch my now completely dry hair, and felt that it also now had a few light waves, as well.

Well, more than just "a few," actually, as I was able to see within the next moment, when a beaming Malvina moved around in front of me to hand me the elegant, black colored hand mirror she usually does after finishing up my hair within the recent past.

"I _do_ hope that _you_ approve, as well, Your Highness!" she gushed with a small nod, as a still smiling Juvela moved forward to stand at her side, while I gazed into the mirror and saw the dandified, loose updo hairstyle she had created for me.

My hair was parted at the front and down the middle a bit, with several, wavy strands gently cascading down and slightly caressing the sides of my face and ears. And then, in the back I could see, after I'd turned my head just a little in order to be able to do so, that Malvina had somehow managed to take what little hair I had _left_ (you know, seeing as she had cut it even shorter than it _had_ been prior, and into that Inverted Bob not too long ago, after all), curled it up some and bunched it up into this tiny and imitation sort of bun.

Overall, I must say that I was very impressed with what she had done, especially since my hair _is_ so short now . . . er, _shorter_.

Clearing my throat, before then slowly licking my lips, I returned the mirror back to the still awaiting Malvina and said, ". . . . It's really pretty, Malvina . . . thank you," with regrettably returning shyness, as I didn't _really_ really want to openly express anything _remotely_ close to pleasure about any part of this overall experience.

Still.

Ya gotta give credit where credit is due.

Which is why I'd _also_ then thanked Juvela for her time and patience as I slowly rose from the chair, and somehow managed to resist the urge to rub at my backside in front of either woman, since I could then feel that my butt had slightly fallen asleep.

And then, after that and a few more cheers, giggles, and curtsying and what not, Malvina began to pack up her hair equipment but left the salon chair, while Juvela had then taken my recently chosen attire and said that she, if I didn't mind the intrusion, would place it inside of "my" bedroom, while Mabelle came shortly to do my makeup.

Sigh.

_More_ butt-falling-asleep moments.

It just never ends. . . .

* * *

_6:30 pm. - 6:55 pm._

_Cosmetic Application with Mabelle Kalah_

This isn't really anything worth writing about, though.

I mean, technically, _none_ of this was worth writing about, but you get me.

It was just more of the same, long and drawn out step-by-step process Mabelle always takes whenever she puts on my makeup.

And you'd think that, since she does at _least_ always go for the more natural look for me, as I've told you before, that it, well, _naturally_ wouldn't take as long as say, something which would be much more heavy and caked on.

But it actually seems to take _a lot _more effort to do, really, when I think about it.

I mean, first there's the moisturizer junk she puts onto my face in lieu of foundation (although it still acts like one, I guess), and that's supposed to give it this "barely-there" sort of look, and is also waterproof (Go figure) and all this "wonderful" crap she told me about when she put it on me for the first time.

"It will give your complexion a fresh, dewy sort of _radiance!_"

Right.

And then, there's the primer or concealer, or _whatever_ you wanna call it, even though Mabelle repeatedly tells me that I don't honestly _need_ any (just like everything _else_ I supposedly "don't need"), since my skin's so flawless.

I want to always say right back that if _that's_ the case, then, I shouldn't need to put on _any_ makeup, _period_, but I know that'd just fall on deaf ears, anyway.

Besides, like I agree with her about the "flawless skin" junkola, anyhow.

Pfft.

_Then_ there's the loose, fancy looking mineral powder which gets fanned out over my face, as well, which is supposed to, I _guess_, help even out the whole foundation . . . er, _moisturizer_-foundation thing, while also continuing to assist within that refreshing look and feel or _whatever_, in addition to helping it to last longer on my face, period.

The moisturizer-foundation stuff, that is.

_Next_ comes the blush, which at least is a "smart shade" (pretty much like the rest of the other makeups), as Mabelle put it, for my naturally tanned complexion, so I don't actually look like a crazy _clown,_ or something, when she puts it on.

And she doesn't honestly seem to put a lot, anyway, too, since I can just barely make it out sometimes, when and if I look into the mirror with it on.

After _that_, comes the eye shadow, eyeliner, and mascara, which is the part I absolutely hate _most_, because I can never, _ever_ keep my eyes open and steady while Mabelle applies both the mascara and eyeliner, _especially_.

With _that _stuff_,_ I'm always worried she'll _jab_ my eye clean through if she makes one wrong move (or _I_ do), you know?

And then, because I shake and jitter around a lot, a lot of the time Mabelle will need to carefully start over in that area, which only eats up _more_ time and further recycles my discomfort. . . .

_Anyway_, and so then _lastly_, are the lips, of course.

Lip concealer first.

Well, actually, a bit of lip _balm_ comes first, I guess as a way to further moisturize and maybe even protect my lips.

_Then_ comes the lip concealer, which, again, at the word "concealer," Mabelle's all "Oh, no, _never!_" about me ever truly needing some, but puts _anyway_, blah blah. This, obviously, as its name indicates, is used to cover up whatever flaws you might have on them, while simultaneously evening out their overall texture.

Next is the lip _liner_, which can be _just_ as vexing as the _eyeliner_, because it can sometimes feel so damned _ticklish_, the way Mabelle has to _slowwwly_ drag it along the outer edges of both my top _and_ bottom lips to draw an outline of them, before applying any lip gloss.

I honestly don't know _how_ she has that much patience, really, both to do all of this at all - _And_ everyday - and with _me_, period.

I must be the _worst_ client ever (even though she'd obviously never let on to that, lest she'd prefer to lose her job . . . _or_ her _head_, instead, once stupid Eli ever got wind of it).

And then, ta-freaking-_da_, _finally_ comes the lip gloss, which Mabelle gingerly applies with a tiny brush (so that it all blends well, again, blah blah _blah_), rather than just smearing it onto my mouth the way _I_ probably would and honestly _have_ within the past, when and _if_ I wear any at all.

And there you have it.

. . . . Huh.

Look at that.

I ended up writing about it, _and_ with pretty impressive detail, at that (considering this bit was more or less from memory, going all the way back to our "first time" together and all), _anyway_.

Man.

I really _must_ be slowly turning into a mini-_Fashionista_ or something, _after_ all.

I'm starting to feel depressed all over again, now. . . .

* * *

_6:55 pm. - 7:10 pm._

_Brief (Thank God) Etiquette Review . . . Of Sorts with King Elisud_

At long, _so_ very long last, we have reached the end of my crazy makeover session, which makes you want to breathe a _great_ sigh of relief for a moment, before you _then_ realize that the night's only _just_ begun.

And then, on _top_ of that, you gotta end the aforementioned session with dumbass _Eli_, _and_ his just as asinine "make sure you don't do _this_, and make sure you don't do _that_" bull crap spewing out of his mouth before he, Mom and I all left the suite, and then the Plaza, altogether.

First, though, let me back up a bit and tell you how I now looked within my brand new apparel, after I was _finally_ allowed to go into "my" bedroom (even though it _did_ mean that it was only to go and change).

Not too pretty damned _bad_, _that's_ how I looked, she writes with a faint blush which she can now feel growing upon her already pretty warm (but from the bath) face. . . .

But it was _true_, though.

Even to the point where I'd caught myself fleetingly wishing that Caleb could have somehow been here to see it all, before I quickly pushed said thought _and_ him back out of my mind.

I _instead_ then began to slightly daydream about what hopefully-single-after-all _Emin_ would say and even look like, facial expression wise, once _he_ got to see me in just a little bit . . . right before I _then_ started to also daydream about what _he_ was going to look like, himself, and what facial expression _I'd_ give to _him_ once I saw him. . . .

And then I couldn't think about that _or_ him anymore, _either_, because I could feel my face was starting to get hot as a super hard blush was coming on just then, and the _last_ thing I wanted was for any part of my makeup to smear, thus having to endure a grueling touch-up from Mabelle.

About the only "downside," I guess, to my demure, yet still quite becoming new look were my _undergarments_.

Well, there wasn't actually anything _wrong_ with either my bra (which was strapless, a bit plain within design, and pink, like my gown. Did I mention that I _greatly_ dislike strapless bras, _too_, since all the ones I've ever had to wear have _always_ done that slow, but sure descent straight off of my breasts, altogether? But at least _this_ one seemed to be manufactured a bit more competently, since it surprisingly didn't do any of that throughout the entire evening), _or_ my pair of panties (also pink, and full cut, which I truthfully felt more relieved than mortified about getting, since I usually wear the _boycut_ variety, as any _other_ alternative would have honestly made me feel that much _more_ awkward in that moment).

None of this really bothered me too much.

No.

It was the fact that someone _else_, God only _knows_ who (and _keep_ it that way, thank you) picked them out for me, _and_ laid them out onto my bed . . . alongside the five _other_ brassiere and panty set, which each correlated to the colors of the rejected gowns, as well. . . .

I mean, I _know_ that we're way up at the tippy top of this building here, but come _on_, here!

Show _some_ kind of discretion, _anyway_, you know?

You never know when a news crew could come _whizzing_ by within a helicopter one day, while doing the traffic report, but _instead_ plasters a front row seat-worthy view of my _unmentionables_ all over the five o'clock _news!_

Is _nothing_ within my life private or left completely up to _me_, anymore? Even my freaking _underwear_ and _bra_ have to be chosen on my behalf (although, to be very slightly fair, this _was_ the first, and hopefully _only_ time this has happened since I've been here, but still)?

It made me all the _more_ hesitant to leave the bedroom and reveal my fully clothed self to everyone now, because of it.

I mean, _anyone_ from the Makeover Mob (although, most like _Juvela_, since they _were_ pieces of clothing, after all, and I'm sure that she "specializes," or whatever, within _undergarments_, as well) could have seen them prior to having been placed (who _knows_ when) inside of the room.

Ick.

I _shudder_ at the thought . . . especially at whether or not _Eli_, as well, was aware of what was under there. (Under _where?_ Sorry . . . even though I _am_ upset about it all, I couldn't resist making that stupid joke just now. . . .)

Gross, gross, _gross!_

Anyhow, _besides_ that, as we move on from that unfortunate memory for _good_, now, I was also wearing the three pieces of jewelry that I'd just let Juvela go ahead and pick out for me, before I'd gotten my makeup done and then went to change.

And, once more, I will say, I am a bit impressed.

I don't remember or really saw whatever _else_ was on the jewelry display table (and didn't get to once I came back out, since the rest was promptly packed away again), but the earrings, necklace, and bracelet (all diamond, again I'm reminding you, and again . . . _period_, really) were each stunning within their own way, yet also weren't _too_ over the top for both the overall ensemble, _or_ for me, personally.

Boy, I sound like a broken record when I keep saying stuff like that.

It's _still_ the truth, though.

Don't ask me how many karats each piece of jewelry possessed (and I don't rightly _care_, either), but the necklace was rather simple (you know, within "Diamond-World," I guess), yet lavish all at the same time, with its "normal chain" sort of design (without anything else of the fancy nature attached or whatever, too), and one big diamond for every tiny three which would come after it.

It really _did_ compliment the neck area of the gown. . . .

Ahh!

I'm doing it _again!_

_Anyway!_

And then the _earrings_ were just diamonds galore, with its pear, or teardrop shape, and a single diamond in between the bottom half (the tear area) and the top half or post, which just mimicked it with having all those . . . yep, _diamonds_ clustered together like that.

It still wasn't all that bad to look at, though, even _if_ I personally wouldn't have placed as many into each earring, myself.

And finally, the _bracelet_ ever so slightly hung a bit off of my wrist, while it had these mini "X"s (probably made of white gold, like the rest of my jewelry, I'm sure) separating the series of five, small diamonds which constituted the whole make of it.

Needless to say, and while I truly, _truly_ hated to admit it, even if only to _myself_, I really _did_ look like a princess now. . . .

And then _that_ realization made me start to _dislike_ my overall attire a bit, too, and _also_ hate _myself_ for having found it "not so bad" in the _first_ place.

It never ends, my cycle of love and hate that I feel towards myself (and _life_), on and off, I'm telling you. . . .

So, _anyway_, I'm finally able to gather up as much nerve as I could muster, before slowly cracking open the bedroom door and exiting (within a bit of the wobbly sort of way that I _knew_ I'd do a lot of, once I'd donned the pair of _accursed,_ high heel shoes), to at last reveal myself to whomever was currently out there . . . which, unfortunately for me, just _had_ to be Eli.

He looked as though he was going to promptly say something upon catching sight of me from where he stood, in front of the still going fireplace, but, _upon_ looking at me, he suddenly seemed at a loss for words. (_Gag_.)

I guess he must have been surprised that "someone like me" could pass for halfway decent within the overly priced clothing rich, important people like _him_ wear on a regular basis, or something.

I would have honestly felt a bit _irritated_ at the thought, as well, but I was too busy feeling _far_ too embarrassed and suddenly _naked_ to manage any other emotion right then.

I didn't move from my spot, just barely out of the bedroom door, as Eli took one step forward, stopped a moment, before resuming his slow paced walk over to me.

". . . . My word," was all he uttered, and softly so at that (Good _God_, kill me now), seeming to prefer to continue to take in the overall sight of me for a few extra moments, before pressing on with a faintly growing smile, over the blatant approval he harbored towards my current appearance. "I _dare_ say, Princess Wilhelmina . . . that you look _quite_ becoming. . . . _Quite_ becoming, indeed. . . ." (_Extra_ kill me now, God, whenever you're ready.)

I wanted to jump _straight_ out of the nearby window to my left, there, and plummet down the fifty-plus stories in that moment, rather than stick around to continue to _listen_ to this.

It was just _wayyy_ beyond uncomfortable, _and_ freaky, to boot, considering who it was coming from.

I could only manage a half, sort of nod within acknowledgment at this as I looked away from the still lightly smiling Eli, before I then shakily maneuvered around him and kept my back to him, while looking about the once again empty and cleared out (of equipment and such, as well) area.

Evidently catching on that I didn't have any intention of speaking up any time soon, not so long as he planned on continuing to draw focus to my overall look, anyway, I could hear Eli moving behind me and cleared his throat before speaking again.

". . . . I had asked that everyone vacate the room, now that you are at last finished with your preparations - _And_ your mother, _thankfully,_ as well, I had been informed, who is most likely still somewhere about within her own bedchamber, presently - so that you and I could quickly go over a few last minute details," he said within his returned, back-to-business and "I'm _totally_ better than you, and you _know_ it" kind of voice.

But at least he didn't seem to be all that bothered by the fact that I hadn't verbally uttered any sort of gratitude to his previous compliment (_Shocker_, I know), nor by the fact that I _also_ hadn't bothered to comment upon his _own_ newfound attire, either.

I mean, by comparison to _me_, of course, it wasn't all _that_ much, I guess, but still.

He'd traded in the gray, faintly striped, vested suit and cream colored tie I saw him wearing when I first got back to the hotel and such, for this smart, black tuxedo with satin sort of looking collar, and matching black bow tie.

And then, on his feet were, of course, just as expensive looking black, and _super_ shiny leather tuxedo shoes, while on his fingers and wrists were . . . gasp, _nothing_ (well, not counting what I guess was his wedding band, since it was wrapped around his left ring finger and all).

I know, right?

Go figure.

Eli's wavy hair was, _also_ "of course," still slicked back, but you could kind of see that it had been fussed over just a tiny bit more this time around, by Malvina or whomever else may have done his hair (and the _rest_ of him, for that matter).

While he didn't, _fine_, okay, look _ugly_, anyway, and I suppose I could have said as much if I really wanted to (which I _didn't_), I was honestly _more_ so focusing upon the presumption that it probably had taken him _far_ less time to just _jump_ into that tux and pair of shoes, by comparison to all the drama that _I'd_ had to go through.

But then, I'm sure he _also_ thoroughly grooms himself within a similar fashion daily, _anyway_, and so is _used_ to it, probably even _enjoying_ it.

That, and even if he had been running a bit behind schedule for his own self, he could have afforded to skip over some steps, since he's probably so unbelievably _squeaky-clean_ twenty-four-seven, anyhow.

Someone as tight-assed as _he_ is? _And_ he's the almighty King?

I don't doubt that for a _second_.

In any event, he's _still_ a lucky bastard to most likely have been able to cut corners with his getting ready, unlike _me_, or maybe even _Mom_, as well. . . .

_Anyhow_, I finally was able to turn back around to face him properly, now that I wasn't feeling as embarrassed as before (Still kind of _was_, mind, but it wasn't as _bad_ . . . right _then_, anyway), and managed to suppress the oncoming yawn which I'd then felt coming on (which was honestly the first time that evening that I'd actually realized just _how_ exhausted I now was, after everything I had previously endured) before speaking.

". . . . And what, pray tell, would that be?" I asked within a quiet, although still distinctly uninterested sort of tone, which then made Eli's previously relaxed demeanor tense up ever so slightly to have listened to.

He then walked past me, back over to the fireplace, all while responding with, "You _do_ recall that this outing will act as your first 'Princess Lessons' test, in addition to further nudging you out into public view, yes? I certainly hope, more so for _your_ sake rather than my _own_, of course, that, again, you had remembered to review your past instructions. . . ."

Holy _crap!_

That stupid test!

I'd honestly forgotten all _about_ that, let _alone_ take a quick peek inside of the royal lesson notebook (_wherever_ I had put it last, anyway) thingie Eli had given to me after the very first one had ended!

Son of a _cow_, this was going to suck _big_ time, even more.

Especially what with Eli continuing on within his talking, and pointing out the various things I was then beginning to think and worry about, like the fact that it was an actual dinner, and within a fancy restaurant, so I'd have to remember which utensils to use and _when_, and all of the _other_ things he'd covered with me on what now felt like an _eternity_ ago.

And that wasn't even the worst yet to realize, either.

Because Eli then _also_ started to remind me to recall my media prowess and body language lessons, as well, because he may allow me to answer perhaps one or two questions the press might ask, who will undoubtedly be there waiting for all of us, he said.

Ohh, my _God,_ was this all really, _really_ going to suck!

And then, lastly, he gave me a brief, slightly new instruction, on how to properly stand or pose for pictures, since he said that he planned to have me, him, _and_ my mom stop for a moment to allow our photographs be taken, as well. . . .

_Ugh_. . . .

He was all, "Be sure not to carry your posture off to one side, _or_ place either one of your hands upon your _hips_, _please_, Wilhelmina. And certainly do _not_ slouch, as I still notice, and quite _regrettably_ so, that you do precisely that all too often," he said with a small exhale upon reflection, before turning around to look upon me once more. "Simply stand straight, arms down at your sides, with your left foot elegantly crossed over your right - As a lady, _especially_ one of such high standing as yourself, reveals _nothing_ - and that is all. This will help exude the inviting, refined and _respectful_ nature the masses must grow accustomed to associating with you - And that you, _yourself_, must actually _possess_ - while simultaneously allowing the photographers a much better view of your royal vestments from all sides. . . . Understood? Like so. . . ."

And then he proceeded to illustrate the particular pose he'd had in mind for me, which I almost could have laughed at a bit (the way he did it all slow motion like, as well as _daintily_), if my mind wasn't still busy struggling to recall the various lesson tips and tricks, and what not.

Just _one_.

_Anything_.

. . . . Nada.

In that moment, Mom finally appeared into the room, however, so my thoughts were, if only for a little while, promptly distracted . . . especially at that quite blatant fact that she looked absolutely _breathtaking_. . . .

Her hair was the first thing I'd noticed before anything else, which was styled within a simple, yet very elegant side ponytail (draped over her right shoulder) with the top of her naturally wavy hair brushed back a bit and styled off to right hand side (Hers) ever so slightly, while a couple strands lightly dangled over her left ear (which, the both of them, that is, housed a pretty beautiful pair of, yes _diamond_-knot, most-likely-white-gold-as-well drop earrings) on the other side.

What was the most attractively unique feature about it (the Do, I mean) were the three, freshly cut white roses which were gingerly and strategically placed, each within a diagonal sort of line, and acted as the barrette-like accessory, as well as gorgeous accent to the rest of her attire. . . .

Mom's floor length gown, which was royal blue (of _course. _On the "royal" bit, that is), was every bit as lovely as her hair, too (and definitely form-fitting, the way it wrapped around her naturally slender and curvacious body . . . that I've found myself feeling a bit jealous of, at times), with its thin, double V-straps and pleated bodice that had a rectangular shaped crystal brooch upon it.

I don't know the type of shoes she was wearing, though (and can't recall them now, either, when I had briefly gotten to see them from time to time that evening), since the gown covered her feet and all, but I'm sure they were just as pretty as the rest of her ensemble. . . .

I know.

I'm _totally_ contradicting myself, yet again, about my current feelings towards her.

I'm _still_ not fond of her, _believe_ it . . . but even _I_ couldn't bother to attempt masking my grand approval over her clothing (and neither could _Eli_, I did manage to catch, before he somehow did manage to force an expression of disinterest upon his tanned face).

And I think the feelings were more than mutual on her end, I mean about liking what she saw, because her eyes got all wide, and her face (which also had makeup on, although hers was just a little bit more visible than mine) went from undetectable emotion, to effortlessly becoming alight with profound, motherly pride and joy once she saw me.

"O-Oh. . . .! _W-Will! _Honey, _look_ at you . . . you look so _beautiful_," Mom gushed with a catch within her throat, her voice quivering like she wanted to cry.

Feeling like I was about to attend my first day of school, or go on my first date, or _something _(rather than a big and fancy, royal dinner), by the way she was reacting to the current sight of me, I let out an exasperated, abashed groan as I replied with, "_Mommm_ . . . _please_. . . . _Promise_ me that you won't get like this while we're at _dinner_, as well, because that would be the _last_ thing I'd need. . . ."

Expecting her to get all dreary and instantly mopey again like she's been lately, as I've said, Mom only continued to smile warmly at me as she approached, carrying within her hands (that I'd only honestly just then noticed, just like the demure, diamond-knot bangle bracelet she had around her left wrist) what looked to be two, miniscule-sized purses, one silver, and one champagne colored.

"Well, I really _can't_ promise you anything, honey, although I _will_ do my best not to _verbally_ announce it, at least," she said with a softening smile, before extending out the hand which cradled the silver purse towards me, which was the smaller, more squarish of the two. (Yeah, I know. "How could an _already_ tiny hand bag be any _tinier?_" Somehow, it found a way.) "This clutch bag is for you. That young woman, Juvela, had asked that if I couldn't give it to you, after having given me _mine_ here. I suppose that it must have slipped her mind. . . . At _any_ rate, here you are, baby."

I looked from Mom's sparkling, tube shaped clutch bag, and then to _my_ just as sparkly . . . _box_ of a thing, just as Eli passed by us both without a word (or one directly at Mom and, at the very least, _some_ form of insulting comment of, "It's a _miracle_" that _she_ was pieced together decently, as well, that I was then expecting) and walked to the suite's double doors.

". . . . What the heck could _possibly_ be crammed into this slice of cheese sized purse?" I muttered within inquiry, more so to myself than to either adult present.

Nevertheless, Eli, as he slowly opened both doors, quietly said, "As I said _before_, my young Wilhelmina: a lady reveals _nothing_. . . ."

**- End of Part One**

* * *

**(A.N. I know, I know! I wanted to keep going, too! But this dinner chapter has become a LOT longer than I had ever originally anticipated. Well, no. That's not entirely true. Since its first conception ages and ages and ages ago now, lol, I'd always envisioned that it would most likely be another one of those doozies, with everything I wanted to cover... which is probably also part of why I'd kept dragging my feet to finally write it all out, too. LoL I just didn't expect the getting ready, first half of the chapter would end up being thirty-seven freaking pages long as I'd already stated, that's all... LoL**

**It's like XV-Dragon had written within his review to the previous chapter: Will really MUST tap into her Guardian physical strength without realizing, each time she starts a new journal entry, with the amount SHE writes... HeHe**

**And just wait until we get to the actual din din scene, and the events afterward, as well... Sigh. My (and Will's, lol) work is never done! You're all lucky I, numbah 1, absolutely love writing, numbah 2, do it for a living, and numbah 3, love all of you guys enough to sit, for hours on end, and type type TYPE away at a chapter which isn't a part of my actual book for a change. =) **

**At any rate, I really REALLY hope you all enjoyed the first half of this chapter, and will review a lot more than the previous chapter, sadly, and stick around for the conclusion! Which, lucky you, should be arriving within your inbox, all nicely gift wrapped and such, within another day or so. Yayyy, quick updates again! LoL)**


	54. Chapter Fifty Two Part Two

**The Royal Guardian**

**By: Sokai**

**Disclaimer:** I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. - I leave that honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. Nor do I own Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" series (even though this story isn't even really related to the series. Just don't want to hear law suit claims LoL). However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: _(Quick Message to a One "Yellow 14:" Yeah, you. Still waiting. LoL) Hadn't been the initial plan to take so long to update this particular story, my Sweet Peas, I swear! As you can see from the date, I had outlined and then actually began to write this way back in June, pretty much immediately following after the post of the first half of this chapter._

_Didn't want any of you to have to wait so long in general, and because I didn't want it, having been divided and all, to remain unfinished for too long._

_It made me feel . . . dirty, otherwise. LoL_

_But, around that time was the beginning of a LOT of personal life stress, primarily having to do with my hubby's visa process and being unable to see him for the summer like we'd hoped, OR for December, as it so far turns out, as well . . . thus making it a full year by that time since we will have seen one another, or been physically together, rather. =/_

_And then, I suppose as a result, my general Writer's Block was also beginning around that time, which has also crippled my former progress with my book, to the point where a lot of revisions needed to be made, I felt, and that anything I'd try to write in general just . . . well, sucked._

_So, instead, I ended up playing a lot, I mean, a LOT of "Granado Espada," in the meanwhile. LoL_

_And now that I finally was able to get one of my characters to 'Veteran' status and made my first billion Vis (the game's currency), I felt fulfilled enough to let it all go for now, and give the renewed writing cravings I was starting to feel at that time an honest chance and . . . here I am, I guess. =)_

_First, my "Reloaded" story a few weeks ago, and now this._

_Yay! HeHe_

_AND, further good news, well, for me, I guess, since I don't honestly know if any of you would rightly care (only because he's not YOUR husband LoL), Gray-Ham and I are finally, FINALLY just about finished with his overall petition, having recently sent one of the last few remaining forms, which they'd informed us this past Monday this week that it's within review and would be approved or denied within the next week or so._

_BETTER be approved, 'cause I've just about HAD it with all these damned forms for the last year and a few months now!_

_=)_

_Anyhow, I've bored you all enough, so please, read on, and grow super, SUPER hungry as you read every last painstaking detail Will gives you about her meal. HeHe_

_Oh! Almost forgot!_

_Three things, as well._

_First off, seeing as a lot, and I mean a lot of you reading this tale have, over time, increasingly wondered whether I'd ever do a sequel to this . . . I don't know if you mean to be reminiscent of 'TPD''s serial nature or what have you, and even though I personally, while having thought about once it had been brought up, am not certain, despite already having a pretty strong inkling of where I'd take this overall tale next, I thought I'd finally make an official poll about it to see where everyone's interests lie, as well._

_Wanted to keep quiet about it, just in case it'd backfire and I'd get a resounding "Hell, YES!" for doing so, and then, for whatever reason, I couldn't do one for you guys, after all, but it's been a recent intrigue of mine to hear more about what can be said about the notion. =)_

_So, feel free to hop on over to my profile before or after reading this chapter, and vote away!_

_Onto numbah two._

_It's just a teeny tiny little shout out of sorts to one 'RosieGurrl,' who was the last one to review for this story right before this specific update. And BOY, did she review. LoL As I'd told her within reply, having received such an enthusiastic response to the previous chapter – The overall story – truly warmed my heart, as it has upon having read all 460+ reviews from the rest of you. =) But this one, seeing as it had occurred while I was finishing up this particular chapter, ended up giving me ample motivation and encouragement to go, go, go and complete this 52-pager. =)_

_So, my avid thanks to you, 'RosieGurrl,' for that!_

_And onto numbah three._

_It is, as always, my continued gratitude for all of YOUR continued support and general enthusiasm for this, and all of my stories (AND my artwork, again, for those who follow me over on dA). Because of you, I continue to strive to be my absolute best for both areas._

_So, thank you, again, my lovelies, and enjoy. =)_

* * *

This chapter was written/created in June 2011, and completed in September 2011.

* * *

**Chapter Fifty Two _(Part Two)_**

**Saturday, November 11th, 5:35 am**

**"My Bedroom" Inside of the Presidential Suite of the Infinity Crowne Plaza Hotel **

Sorry, sorry.

Guess I _did_ end up knocking out, after all, since the last thing I can remember is draining the bathtub.

Don't know how or when I ended up being wrapped up, all nice and snug within the bed sheets and comforter, but that's how I woke up a few minutes ago. (Could you just imagine if it turned out that one of the "never really seen" hotel employees, for this _suite_, anyway, just barged in to clean the bathroom while they thought I was already fast asleep, and ended up _carrying_ me to the bed, instead? _Please_, God, don't let that be true. . . .)

And then I just looked at the time and saw that it's already morning, of the nearing sunrise variety (_and_ of the nearing _Eli_-rising variety, as well, unfortunately), and felt bad that I'd ended up falling asleep on you like that, Journal . . . _literally_, actually, as I realized once I'd rolled off of my stomach, how I'd awakened, and then onto my back.

But you don't look any worse for the wear, though, so . . . yeah.

Sorry, again.

Well, _geez_.

Since I do so much "talking" to you, anyway, maybe I really _should_ just go ahead and buy a new diary, one with some kind of electrical influence, and bring it to life, _after_ all.

It'd certainly save me some time where writing every last, _painstaking_ detail of my absolutely chaotic life is concerned, anyway.

_And_, not to mention give me more time to _sleep_, as well (and time for my _studies_, since I tend to forsake them in favor of promptly updating you), since, even though I'm barely awake right now, in truth, I'm still going to try to press on and record the damned dinner, once and for all.

Plus, in that way, I can go back to sleep with it out of my mind for good . . . at least, in _theory_.

Now, where did I last leave off?

. . . . Oh, okay. I see it now.

Me, Mom, and Eli were all leaving the Presidential Suite and were about to vacate the hotel, altogether.

Right.

So we all leave the suite, and lined up against the walls on either side of us is the "Makeover Mob," waiting patiently for us to do their bowing and curtsying, again, before thanking each of us for the opportunity to be of service, and then also wishing that we have a pleasant evening.

Sure will. (Yes, sarcasm.)

And then, after Eli thanked _them_ in return (and after three of them suddenly, as well as carefully helped us put on the three, slightly similar-in-design, winter, fancy trench coats we ended up wearing for added protection against the brutal cold outside. And, of course, _mine_ just had to be _white_ colored, while my mom's and Eli's were _black_ . . . lucky bastards. Er, well, _Eli's_ definitely 'bastard worthy,' anyway, not my mother, even if she's still not currently my friend), he quietly informs two of his regular four bodyguard buddies to stay behind for a little while and mind after everyone, while the rest of us went on ahead to _Le Beau Expérience_ as planned.

Obviously he must have thought that some, if not all of them would have ended up trying to break into the suite and steal our valuables, or something.

That, and he most likely wanted someone left behind to _eavesdrop_ upon any and all sort of conversation which might have been had about the Royal Family.

_So_ paranoid, that one . . . although _I'm_ clearly one to talk, myself . . . _sadly_.

Anyhow.

So then, we all piled into the elevator, and after which made it safely into the awaiting stretch limousine outside, _somehow _without my mounting nerves completely doing me in (since it seemed like every last occupant, fellow hotel guests and employees alike, who had been present at that time, were naturally _gawking_ at the three of us . . . or, more likely, primarily at Lil' Ol' _me_).

_Or_ that my damned _high heel shoes _hadn't done me in, for that matter.

_And_ with icy conditions to contend with, at that.

So, ha! I guess I _can_ walk competently within shoes which aren't either floppy, frog shaped slippers, or good old, reliable Tennies.

At least, I _thought_ I could, and honestly _had_ been that entire time, from when I'd left the Presidential Suite, walked into the elevator, and out into the limo.

But then, _after_ that, evidently, my feet had said "_Screw_ this! You're on your _own_, Will!", because by the time the fancy-schmancy vehicle had regrettably (or _thankfully_, depending upon how you look at it, seeing as I couldn't take another minute of being trapped inside of it with Eli, who _refused_ to shut up the entire near half hour ride, what with his making sure for the final time that I remembered all of my important etiquette guidelines and would be on my best behavior) slowed down to a stop in front of the equally fancy-schmancy restaurant, they honestly felt like absolute _jelly_.

In fact, my entire _body_ suddenly began to feel like some sort of primordial ooze, really, as my heart started to pound excessively behind my breastplate, and my formerly smooth and recently manicured hands became _super_ clammy and gross.

I must have gone _deaf_ temporarily, as well (which, of course, couldn't have _instead_ occurred while Eli had been 'Blah-Blah-Blah'ing' in my ears beforehand), alongside my sense of general awareness having shut down at the same time then, because the next thing I know both Mom and Eli are already standing outside of the now open limousine, with _Eli_ doing his best to maintain a calm expression upon his face while extending a for once naked (in terms of excessive jewelry) hand out for me to take.

Evidently he had been speaking to me before I'd finally caught on right then, because when I _did_ I could hear the mild agitation within his voice as he goes, as quietly as he can, ". . . . Princess Wilhelmina . . . _now_ would be a _fine_ time to take my hand, wouldn't you say so? We cannot - And _will_ not keep our guests waiting."

And all I could offer up within response was a profoundly dumb, "Guh?", before the sudden, brutal gust of frigid wind completely snapped me out of my daze once and for all, and I sickeningly took the man's hand.

But, oh nooo, Journal, the fun didn't stop _there_.

Certainly not.

After all, like I'd just said, my legs had decided to abruptly _boycott_ this little family outing (although I can't honestly say that I could blame them, even _if_ their having done so cost me what little dignity I had left), and _because_ they had, the very instant I'd extended my right foot out of the limo, it _immediately_ crumbled beneath my weight, causing me to fall forward . . . and straight into Eli's naturally taken aback self.

_And_ with only about a _thousand_, increasingly familiar (and increasingly _annoying_) 'Pop, pop, _popping_' noises and fierce flashing of the surrounding Paparazzi going on, who were of course already there, waiting outside of the restaurant for who knows how long until we'd all arrived, _just_ so that they could catch glorious moments such as _this_.

I can barely stand to be within the same gene poolas Eli, let alone disgustingly within his _arms_ . . . even if he _did_ save me from further embarrassment, had he not caught me just in time and I ended up flat on my _face_ upon the mercilessly freezing, and filthy ground.

And with the get up I currently had on, that would be all I'd need (not to mention that it would have most likely made Eli's head _explode_ to have witnessed . . . _literally_, knowing him, as his personal capabilities are never-ending).

So there we are, pressed against one another (Eww. Almost threw up in my mouth a little, there.) for what feels like ages, while _Mom's_ just kind of standing a bit awkwardly to the side and watching on with a crooked sort of smile on her face, when Eli is the first to snap out of our dual abashment, I'm sure.

Stuff like this must have happened a lot in the past or whenever to his _other_ family members, peers or what have you, though, since, upon recovering, he totally played it cool as he flashed our surrounding parasites a generous smile, before smoothly turning me around to properly face them all and extended his left hand out towards the restaurant's still awaiting entrance-way.

Meanwhile, _I'm_ still within a partial daze, with my mind rapidly thinking, _Did that seriously just happen? Did I just do that, __and__ in front of a platoon of people, who will regrettably plaster this moment all over their websites and within their magazines come Monday - Hell, __tomorrow__? _

All I wanted to do right then was promptly dive back into the warm, and shielding limo, and _beg_ the driver to take me back to the hotel, but by that moment he was already pulling away from the scene.

Nowhere to hide now.

". . . . I trust we will have no more of that once we are inside, Wilhelmina," Eli softly murmured to me as discreetly as he could, while continuing to smile graciously at the ferocious sea of Photogs.

Was he _serious?_

Well, duh.

Of _course_ he was.

He's _Eli_, after all.

But, honestly, though.

Like I did that purpose, and _want_ to continue on with "more of that once we are inside," or at _any_ time within the public eye!

Can't catch a break, I swear. . . .

I didn't say anything to that, just merely continued on within my Jell-O-like state at his side, and desperately willing my legs to cooperate with me once again, while also starting to steadily freeze my ass off as the harsh winds continued to howl all around us.

While I was praying to High Heaven that I could, at the _very_ least, somehow make it inside of _Le Beau Expérience_ before my _next_ accident, and feeling very much as I had during my first day out in public as Princess, that's when all of the _questions_ started rolling in.

I should've known. . . .

I mean, what's a Paparazzo _without_ his or her armed inquiries, ready to sling at any moment at whichever famous person he or she is busy harassing?

But, even though I was feeling all the more nervous about that, I also figured that since this was an evidently important event and he kept stressing about being punctual and such, Eli wouldn't allow any one of us to stop and answer a single one.

And he hadn't . . . but he _did_, however, allow each of us a few moment's time to pause and . . . _pose_ for a few _photographs_.

I should've known that too, though, right?

I mean, one, like I keep telling you, Journal: it's Eli, and you just never know _what_ to expect with the guy.

And two, he _did_ give me that brief, semi-lesson on how to properly stand while allowing my picture to be taken.

Thing is . . . I'd already forgotten it.

Even _with_ my mom standing beside me, after both she and Eli guided my still a bit wobbly self (and thus, most likely looked as though I were inebriated, which is ironic, since . . . well, we'll get to that later) along the brilliantly red carpet placed right outside of the restaurant's glossy, golden doors, _and_ her effortlessly assuming the correct position I could have then easily mimicked, as a result, my brain _still_ didn't catch on.

Nope.

I ended up pretty much doing everything Eli _didn't_ want me to do, standing a bit lopsidedly off to one side, while folding my bare arms across my chest and keeping my legs spread.

Okay, _that_ sounded bad, didn't it?

I just mean that I didn't do that drape one foot behind the other bit like Eli had earlier instructed me to do.

Sorry, but I was way too busy trying to swallow down my continually rattled nerves, in addition to battling against the freezing _weather!_

Because right before Mom, Eli and I did our posing thing, (Well, _their_ posing thing. _I_ just did a . . . _thing_, period) the next thing I know each of our previously forgotten bodyguards suddenly appeared (including the two Eli had commanded to momentarily stay behind back at the Plaza), and practically tackled us before then gently seizing our coats.

I'm surprised that I'd managed to stop myself from screaming Bloody Murder the moment my bare back got violently lashed by another onslaught of frosty wind, before I swiftly hunched over a bit and raised my arms to my chest within futile attempts to stay warm.

What a _fine_ time to be short one Guardian of Air. . . .

I don't know _how_ my mom (and Eli, although screw _him_, since he was completely clothed, by comparison) was able to stand there with perfect poise, honestly rockin' the "runway," so to speak, like that.

I mean, she was pretty much just as physically exposed as _I_ was, after all.

But she never even _flinched_ against the undeniable chill, not once.

I guess all of _her_ princess training from yesteryear was simply coming back to her more and more.

To be honest, even though I was currently trapped within an overwhelming situation, freezing my "Royal Ta-Tas" off, if you please, it was actually pretty . . . _nice_, I mean, to witness my mother within her currently blatant, regal glory.

It was almost like she was in the _zone_, or something right then, seeing as she was, for a change, not looking completely _"Zombied-Out" _like she's usually been lately, and instead looked positively _radiant_.

_Oh_, yeah.

The "Adoring Public" was _definitely_ going to revere her even more, if not already, come the release of _these_ particular photographs of her, for sure.

_Lucky_. . . .

Anyway, after what felt like an eon, plus _one_, Eli, who once again seemed to be doing his absolute best to conceal his never-ending surplus of shame where _I_ was concerned, finally then took the lead and started to walk inside of the now open restaurant doors (of course, courtesy of one of his many, many bodyguards), while Mom, and then myself followed suited (mindlessly, in my case).

And just as I was finally about to cross the threshold between super evil, Ice Age-like weather, the apparently coldblooded _locusts_ carrying on outside behind me, and the _super_ inviting warmth of the vast, ritzy dwelling now before me, I could just make out one Paparazzo curiously ask, "Your Majesty! Will this particular outing serve as a premiere date for Princess Wilhelmina and Lord Kendrick?"

And as soon as I'd managed to hear _that_ very daunting inquiry, I immediately turned my head around, and uttered out a rather loud, "_What?_" within alarm, right before Nova and Ernest, the last two to have filtered into the building, promptly took it upon themselves to seal the doors behind us.

I can't wait to see _that_ snapshot, as well, as I'm sure a great majority of those damned Photogs effortlessly caught that celebrated moment at _all_ sides.

Until then, screw worrying about that, when I now apparently have to be _more_ concerned about the fact that this once simple (all right, so _not_ so simple) family dinner was now suddenly becoming the makings of a blind date for Royalty!

I.

Should.

Have.

_Known!_

I _totally_ should have!

I mean, for the umpteenth time now, I _have_ to say it, _that is_ Eli who is pulling all the strings, in all his diabolical glory, and he _did_ say that there would be an extra guest joining us, alongside my scrummy-yummy Emin Evgar.

Holy _Cheese!_

_Emin!_

Now what the hell is he going to think, seeing me being literally wined and dined by some stupid, big shot _nobleman_, who's probably just as stuffy and insufferable as _Eli?_

This will _totally_ ruin any chance of him becoming completely entranced by my current appearance like I'd hoped, not to mention totally ruin any chance of our _own_ romance sparking!

. . . . Okay, so, in all likelihood, it probably wouldn't have ever happened between the two of us, _anyway_, no matter _how_ "hot" I'd look at any given time, but still!

I was still going to try to impress him and catch his eye, if _only_ for tonight, seeing as it doesn't seem like I can snag _any_ guy I presently want.

But now, there's no chance of _that_ happening, thanks to this annoying, stuck up, _imbecile_ of a Lord!

Well, okay, fine.

To be fair, I didn't even _meet_ the guy at that point, let alone even know anything about him.

But, so what?

_Most_ people of royal blood are usually full of themselves, after all, right?

I mean, negating _myself_, obviously, and I guess also my mom, too.

At least, _nowadays_, anyway, since I clearly wasn't around to know what she was like back in the day.

And anyhow, with a name like "Lord Kendrick?"

That has "Snooty-Patooty" written all over it!

_Sorry_, Eli, but whatever plans you secretly had in mind for the two of us is _not_ going to happen.

And I was about to tell him just as much, when he gently, yet also with a slight firmness, clasped the back of my right elbow before quietly stating, "Now, whatever it is you are presently thinking of, or thinking of _doing_, simply cease and desist at _once_, Wilhelmina, as we are about to be within the presence of great importance, for the _both_ of our patiently awaiting guests."

I immediately frowned up at him and was honestly about to wrench my arm free before telling him off, damn the public spectacle it would cause, when one of the partially busy establishment's Greeters suddenly approached our large gaggle of "Royal Company."

"Oh, _welcome_, Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness, and Your Royal Highness, to'Le Beau Expérience!'" said the black haired, overly spray-tanned chick with a broad, blatantly nervous grin, after she'd executed an equally nervous curtsy within respect. "My name is Cloelia, and on behalf of the establishment, I wish to welcome you _fondly_, and _thank_ you for making it your choice within fine dining this evening! Now, if you will please follow me, I will lead you to your private room, the 'Chariton,' where The Lord Kimball and Mr. Evgar are already present, awaiting your esteemed arrival!"

A few thoughts then popped into my head upon hearing that long winded spiel from the one evidently known as "Cloelia" (which is a pretty awesome name, if I do say so, myself. Methinks I'd even take _her_ name over "Wilhelmina" _any_ day, as well).

First, I started to think about what a relief it was that we'd at least be eating within our own little secluded quarters (hopefully sans _windows_, as well, unlike this main area I was currently standing within), evidently, away from the fair amount of "Normal People" who were present and naturally watching all of us like some sideshow exhibit.

_Then_ I started to think about _Emin_, again, and the look on his face once he saw how "Supermodel-ish" I now looked, but then _also_ started to dwell upon the fact that this stupid _Lord_ guy was also here, and would ruin pretty much _everything_ for me.

Which, of course, _then_ made me fleetingly wonder if maybe Emin wasn't busy duking it out with him right at that moment, fighting feverishly for my honor . . . or not.

_Anyway_, after _that_ admittedly idiotic thought, I started to focus more upon Mr. Big Shot Lord Kendrick, himself, although more so about his name.

That is, I thought it _was_ "Lord _Kendrick_," not "Lord _Kimball_," like the Cloelia Greeter-lady just said?

Maybe amidst her obviously frazzled nerves (Join the club) she'd just gotten his name mixed up, was all.

Hell if _I'd_ know, naturally, since I know _diddly_ about 'Lords' and what they are, what they _do_, or _anything_ like that.

Well, _Royalty_ on the whole, really, as we've already established many times before, Journal.

At _any_ rate, while those particular thoughts were busy running through my head, they were immediately pushed aside the moment I suddenly heard Eli mutter, thankfully more so to himself, "And she'd already addressed us - Addressed _me_, before having been spoken to first. How . . . _primitive_. . . ."

Was he _serious?_

I mean, _seriously_ serious here, this time?

Because _how_ many other people, that I can recall, anyway, had done the same since he's been here in Heatherfield?

And it's only _now_ he's complaining about it?

Man, what he must think of this place all the _more_ now. . . .

Besides!

That's the woman's _job!_

She's _supposed_ to come up to you and start things off _first_, you moron!

I bet you if she _hadn't_ naturally done so, Eli _still_ would have had something to gripe about.

See what I mean about Royalty?

At least _Mom_ seemed to be upon the same train of thought as me, because as we all made our way further into the restaurant, with the employee-in-question leading the way, I could hear her let out a gruff sigh in front of me before slightly leaning forward towards her brother in front of _her_ and says, "She's a _Greeter_, Elisud; that is what 'Greeters' _do_. They _greet_ people, _including_ you, no matter _how_ 'primitive' you may believe such a courtesy to be. . . ."

Eli said nothing within response to that, just kept right on walking and probably trying hard not to scowl, while _I_ then tried _my_ best not to start _laughing_ joyously at his expense.

Although doing so right then probably _would_ have done me a world of good, as I was beginning to feel my stomach tightening up and twisting within avid nausea over the fact that I was now only mere seconds away from meeting my supposed "_date_."

Ugh.

I _still_ can't believe Eli did this to me.

I still can't believe that I still can't believe Eli did this to me. . . .

_Anyhow!_

So the Cloelia gal leads us to a closed set of sleek, black colored and windowless double doors before silently curtsying once more, and opens one of them, while one of Eli's "Bodyguard Quartet" rushed forward to do the same for the other.

And . . . well, hold on a sec.

Before I continue on with how or what this Lordio looks like, lemme first tell you about how this _Chariton Room_ looked.

The overall _Le Beau Expérience, _the main room, I mean, was admittedly quite gorgeous, from what I'd gotten to see before being led away, of course.

But _this_ particular private dining area was positively _exquisite_.

Everything was just so . . . so . . . _sparkly_, really, and "goldish" and crème colored all over the place, with its five, super huge chandeliers dangling high above the seemingly endless stream of circular, and fairly intimately sized dining tables.

And there were also oodles of tall, slender pillars erected every which way you could look, too, which, as a result (well, also because of the chandeliers which hung from it, as well), made you look up to properly gaze upon the intricately designed ceiling, which had practically _hundreds_ of square shaped . . . tile thingies in it, I guess, with what looked like a single rose etching decorating the very center of each.

In summation, it really _was_ a very beautiful room.

Just don't tell _Eli _this, or else he might want to book it again in the future, _this_ time as a rehearsal dinner venue for Lordie's and my _wedding_.

I _shudder_ at the thought . . . or the strong _possibility_, rather, where _that_ repulsive man is concerned. . . .

Right, then.

So, yeah, after momentarily marveling at the admitted beauty now all around me, that's when my eyes finally landed upon the only table being presently occupied within the immense, otherwise empty room.

_And_ when I saw him.

_Emin_, I mean.

I didn't even _bother_ to look at what's-his-face yet in all honesty, even with my consistent anxiousness over his unexpected presence.

But really, could you _blame_ me for scoping out Emin first?

He was just so . . . so . . . _mmmm_. . . .

Er, I mean . . . oh, _forget _it.

Both he, _and_ "Mr. Lord" immediately rose from their seats across from one another (probably because they couldn't stand to be any closer, given that Emin had made it abundantly clear that he was not going to leave this dinner without first asking for my hand in marriage . . . right. I know, "Shut _up_, already, Will." Got it.) once they'd seen me, my mom, and Eli enter, which fleetingly made me remember a little bit of my past royal lesson about that.

You know, about how everyone's gotta rise from their spots as soon as the Head Honcho host comes in and such.

_Anyway_.

And that's when I was able to more properly see Emin in all his handsomely handsome glory, decked out within a black tuxedo and bow-tie which, by comparison to _Eli's_ tux, anyway, seemed pretty plain and borderline "poor . . . ish."

But I didn't care.

He _still_ looked just as delicious as always, even _more_ so, now, with his rich, brown hair gently slicked back and . . . _woooo_.

I need a moment, sorry, Journal. . . .

Maybe I really _shouldn't_ give up on ever getting with Emin someday, after all, I mean, seeing as just the mere _thought_ of him usually makes me like . . . well, _this_.

And considering that he's the first guy to ever make me feel like that, ever since I'd stupidly fallen for equally stupid _Caleb_, it wouldn't really be a bad idea to give it a _shot_, anyway.

Emin would probably at _least_ humor me with one, measly date, if I'd ever have enough proverbial balls to _ask_ him, which is _a lot _more than I can say for that damned_ ex-Rebel Leader_, who most of the time can't even be bothered to _speak_ to me for no more than ten minutes throughout our entire . . . "_acquaintanceship_," really.

Jerk. . . .

_Anyway_.

Moving on, right? That's what we've decided to do, once and for all, Will.

After generously taking in Emin's dreamy appearance (_and_ practically dying right then and there when I actually caught him do a _double take _upon looking at me, before smiling! _Yes_, for _me!_ A _total_, freaking double take! _And_ an obviously approving smile, thereafter! _Yes!_), I finally, _and_ regrettably let my attention shift over to Lord Kendrick . . . or _Kimball_ . . . whomever.

. . . . And that actually ended up not being all too "regrettable" once I had.

I _know!_

"How could you _say_ such a thing, Will? This is the guy your uncle - This _country_ wants you to end up having _babies_ with in the not-so-far-along future, if they both get their way!"

I know.

_Seriously_, I do.

But it's not like I'd _planned_ to find myself . . . surprisingly _attracted_ to the guy.

_There_, I said it!

I'd spent the better part of that entire evening trying my supreme hardest to deny it, for obvious reasons, but I'm _finally_ admitting it!

At least to _you_, anyway, Journal.

But it wasn't, or _isn't_ just because he turned out to be easy on the eyes or nothin', though.

No.

There were lots of _other_ reasons I'd discovered, as the night went along.

But I'll get to all of that in a second.

First, let's backtrack to "Lord K.'s" looks.

For starters, he's a _blonde_.

"_Dirty_ Blonde," but a blonde, nonetheless.

And I honestly don't go for the "Fair Haired Fellow," if my past track record with crushes and inevitable boyfriends wasn't any sort of indication to you.

So it was quite the shocker when I'd felt the same sort of nervously giddy, heart-lurching sensations I usually feel whenever around _Emin_ (or "You-Know-Who," still . . . _sadly_. No. _Irritatingly_, is more like it), and had been in that moment, suddenly being transferred over to "_K-Squared,_" instead, the moment our eyes met.

Ugh.

_'The moment our eyes met?'_

_God_.

Does it _get_ any cheesier and princess sounding than _that?_

. . . .

I'll let that slide, though, but only because that's honestly how it happened.

My brown eyes gazed into his hazel and . . . yeah.

I was definitely then starting to think, _What the hell's the __matter__ with you, Will? This __cannot__ be what I __think it is, _as I continued on within my silent assessment of the smiling, young lad.

He _also_ donned a black tuxedo, although _much_ more ritzy looking than Emin's and thus, more on a par with Eli's, with a satiny lapel like his own, as well, matching bow-tie, but with a vest underneath.

_His_ hair wasn't gelled back like Emin's and Eli's, though, although I guess simply because it was a bit too short for that, as it was slightly spiky in contrast.

Well, I mean, not the _obnoxious_ sort of spiky that you see at school or on the streets all the time, when guys decide to overdo it with the mousse and actually think that it'll look _sexy_, and that any girl will get turned on by touching the rock solidness which has become their locks.

No.

It was honestly barely slathered with _any_ sort of hair styling product at all, from what I could tell, anyway, which probably would have meant that it'd be quite _soft_ to the touch.

Er, I mean, in a _general_ sense, not an "Oh, how I wish that _I_ could have run my hands through it" sense. . . .

Yeah.

_Definitely_ not.

_Anywhoooo_. . . .

"K-Squared" was, or _is_ pretty tall, too, or tall enough, anyway, I mean by comparison to Eli, Emin, and the whole of the Royal Family's male bodyguards who were present that evening.

He was naturally taller than _me_, even _with_ the added inches I'd gained, courtesy of my high heels (which, I might add, and in case you weren't noticing, Journal, were once again cooperating a tiny bit more with me up to that point. . . . Up to that _point_, I said.), but still was a tiny bit shorter than my mom, and _definitely_ Eli.

He _was_, however, even with _Emin_, I did notice, which then made me feel the great urge to start a score-keeping list of who was the better man . . . and I actually _did_ for most of the evening, and hadn't honestly realized I'd done so until the night was finally over.

I know, I _know_, I say again, damn it!

. . . . I hate being a teenager.

So, _anyway_, back to describing "K-Squared's" physical appearance.

One thing I _will_ say that Emin scored higher than him about was his skin tone.

That is, Emin has this healthy sort of tan, I guess, _I_ don't know, while his unknowing competitor does . . . well, _not_.

I mean, not to say that he's _sickly_ or super _super_ pale, or anything, because he's not.

He's pretty much _Cornelia's_ complexion, although just a teeny tiny bit lighter, that's all.

And considering that the rest of his present company, negating our protectors, had _some_ sort of natural or self-imposed bronze effect going on, that "teeny tiny bit" went a long way.

But none of that certainly stopped him from possessing a . . . yes, _mesmerizing_ sort of gaze any time he'd look at you with those hazel eyes of his.

And _then_ add that to the . . . _cute_ little birthmark on his left cheek, _and_ the equally cute, closed lipped and lopsided sort of smile of slight shyness he'd kept giving me all night and . . . yeah.

"K-Squared" honestly _wasn't_ all too bad to look at, like I said.

And he apparently must have been thinking the same thing about _me_, since he didn't really blink a whole lot the entire time he and Emin watched me, Mom, and Eli approach.

I don't even think he honestly looked at either one of them, actually, from what I could tell, anyway.

At least, not until Eli actually spoke a few moments later.

"Ah! _Kendrick_, my boy! How you've grown since I'd seen you last in person! _Two years,_ I believe!" the King announced joyously upon reaching our awaiting, small party. He then extended one of his hands to the young man in question and shook it once, but firmly before letting go. "I trust that your flight from New York City was a safe and comfortable one, then?"

"Yes, of course, Your Majesty, thank you! And it is always quite an honor and pleasure to be within _your_ company, as well," "Mr. Lordie" politely replied upon at last tearing his eyes away from me (Sounds _shallow_, I know, but it was true, though.), speaking for the first time (within a light, yet still noticeable accent, which was different to Eli's, that I couldn't quite put my finger on). "My family, naturally, send their best regards to you, _and_ to the rest of the Royal Family, as well. . . ."

His voice was . . . deep, yet youthful at the same time . . . and also . . . _smooth?_

_I_ don't know.

It admittedly reminded me a lot of . . . yes, _Caleb's_, unfortunately.

And thus, _naturally_, that was an automatic point _against_ the new lad.

_Afterward_, but before proper introductions could have been made, I suppose, Eli then turned his attention to Emin so as not to be rude (for _once_ in his life), and made his way around the table to greet him, as well.

"And, of _course_, a warm welcome to _you_, as well, Mr. Evgar! _Always_ a pleasure, I'm sure," he remarked in kindness, before doing the same sort of handshake with that tall drink of Sexy, too.

"A pleasure, _indeed_, Your Majesty," Emin replied with a generous grin, which made me _melt_ over how boyishly, yet _devilishly_ handsome it looked.

Another score added to _his_ side, now.

And now, came _our_ turn.

My mom and me, that is.

Eli, being the obvious leader of the pack, took it upon himself once more to initialize the formal introductions, starting first with Mom.

"Kendrick, while your family had once been familiar with my sister long ago, _you_, of course, are not, having yet to be born," he began with a soft smile towards the curiously blushing . . . _Kendrick_, I think is his first name, "and thus, I present to you, Her Royal Highness Princess Almira Lilith. . . ."

Eli had surprisingly said that whole spiel _without_ gritting his teeth, _or_ scowling deeply, you know, considering he _was_ making a direct reference towards his older, estranged sibling, after all.

Instead, he almost looked sort of . . . _proud_, I guess?

Or maybe it was just leftover emotions from the blatant esteem and fondness he harbors for the young _Kendrick_.

I silently watched as my mom moved past me to properly meet the blonde nobleman, who did that bowing from the neck thing that men have to do for "we Royalty."

"It is a pleasure to finally make your direct acquaintanceship, Lord Kimball," my mom was the first to speak, smiling warmly at the shorter individual, and sounding suddenly _super_ regal for the very first time since her royal secret had come spilling out of the bag. "As The King had previously indicated, I, too, was once _quite_ familiar with your family, although more so your _grandparents_, as your mother and father, the current Duke and Duchess, were but young adolescents at the time, as The King and I. . . ."

A bunch of thoughts began to run through my head right then, for _sure_, like, _was_ "K-Squared's" first name "Kendrick," or was it "_Kimball_," after all, since both Mom and Eli, and even that _Cloelia_ broad had each called him two different things?

I had _enough_ things to worry about not making a continued fool of myself over, after all; I didn't need to add flubbing up the poor guy's proper name to the list, as well.

_Then_ I started to wonder who this _woman_ was, and what happened to the formerly _rebelling_ mother I used to know, or even the thereafter moping, _depressed_ gal who just kept _crying_ all the time now and everywhere she went?

I mean, ever since she'd first reappeared, all dolled up within _her_ specific attire back at the Presidential Suite, my mom has seemed to have undergone some sort of . . . _I_ don't know.

"Spiritual Awakening," or something.

I couldn't tell if she was just putting on a _show_, perhaps for my sake so that the overall, undeniably daunting impact of tonight wouldn't be _as_ devastating for me.

_You_ know, like to make certain that I understood that I at least had _her_ support in this, and to possibly act as my buffer if at any time I may end up acting like a complete _buffoon_ (which definitely happens more often than _not_ for me, it seems).

_Or_, maybe she was suddenly acting like a recent _pageant_ winner, or something, because, well, maybe she was suddenly beginning to _enjoy_ the recent reconnection with her former royal lifestyle.

I mean, I know what she'd _said_ about it, that she didn't regret leaving it behind and all, but maybe being completely thrust back into it, with all of the returned focus and attention onto her by way of _kiss-asses_, _and_ also being around her baby brother again after all these years of his absence . . . I don't know, maybe tonight and everything which had accompanied it was simply the final jolt Mom needed, or even _wanted_, to get back in touch with the woman she _used_ to be, before being simply known as "'_Susan_,' Single Mother of One."

And then, thinking like that honestly made me feel bad for her all _over_ again, try as I might to have denied it.

I mean, my mom really _has_ seemed to have gone through quite a lot within her life, and seemed to make a lot of different sacrifices, some good and some _bad_, I'm sure, to get to where she currently is today . . . and she's never honestly complained much about it, _or_ anything else, really, either.

Now, I'm not saying that I will completely forgive her for having cheated on Dean, evidently, as that act is still inexcusable . . . but I _guess_ that I will at least _try_ to meet her halfway, once and for all, about this whole princess situation.

It'll be pretty hard, but I _will_ try. . . .

In _any_ event, _whatever_ the ultimate reason for Mom's apparent turnaround that evening, however, would have to wait until later today to be discovered, once I'm more awake and she, herself, wakes up, period, to be properly asked.

Until then, back to the actual dinner, and her blatantly _owning_ the "Awesome Princess" scene in that moment.

Even _Eli_ seemed to be impressed, as well, as I did manage to catch his facial expression during the exchange between his sibling and Lord Kendrick/Lord Kimball.

His dark eyebrows slowly, although surely raised as he watched the display, before a very, very, I mean _very_ faint sort of smile graced his lips.

And, as surprising as _that_ had been, I swear to you, Journal, that I could _also_ see what looked like . . . _tears_ briefly shining within his eyes, I kid you not.

It was only for about a second or two, since when I looked harder I couldn't see anything anymore, and his eyes looked a lot less glassy, but I'm _telling_ you that I saw something of the "Water Works" nature within Eli's eyes in that moment.

I would be more inclined to think something like, _Aww, that's actually kinda __cute__ . . ._ you know, that perhaps the long since buried sibling bond he and my mom used to share seemed to then be resurfacing or something, except that it was _Eli_ we're on about.

Even though, true, for _once_, he _wasn't_ busy looking down at his older sister, _or_ looking quite exasperated with her as he usually does with _me_, you still have to take this brief . . . "_truce_" of sorts between them (for that entire evening, at least) with a grain of salt.

I mean, Eli _could_ have been more so pleased with the fact that Mom hadn't embarrassed him by instead using all of the so called, "nasty, commoner habits" he constantly accuses her of having picked up throughout the years since she'd abdicated the throne.

He probably had been expecting her to have just been all, "Hiya, Kenny! How's it _hangin'?_", or something upon being introduced to "Lord Double K," and already had some secret "Mom Evacuation Plan" ready to deploy thereafter, too.

So _that's_ the more likely reason why the guy had looked so flushed and wracked with emotion then, simply because my mom had proven him wrong and left him so taken aback, as a result.

_Whatever_.

I tell ya.

Too bad Eli really couldn't just simply rent a brand _new_ Royal Family to have accompanied him tonight, and any _other_ night (and _day_), really.

Would make _all_ of our lives much, _much_ simpler.

_Anyhow_, so after Mom and "L.K." (God, I've made so many different nicknames for this kid already, haven't I? No, they are _not _"pet names," Journal.) did the introduction thing and made a passing bit of polite small talk, thereafter, it was finally . . . dun, dun _dunnnn_ . . . _my_ turn.

Gulp.

_Okay, be cool, Will. Just simply wait until Eli or Mom or __whomever__ introduces you to the guy, __and__ also wait until either one of them tells you his actual, __proper__ name before opening your mouth to speak at all_, I quickly told myself in silence as the young nobleman and I locked eyes with one another once more, nervously on _both_ ends, I did manage to notice.

Aww.

_Kinda_.

_Ahh!_

"And now, Kendrick, dear lad, I present to you, my _niece_, Her Royal Highness Princess Wilhelmina Janan," Eli once again took the helm of the "Who's who" scene, extending an arm out towards me within further acknowledgment (which only served to _add_ to my present anxiousness of the overall situation, as well as _aggravation_ that he just _had_ to call me by my full name, first _and_ middle, in front of the guy). "Princess Wilhelmina, let me introduce to you, His Excellency the Right Honorable The Lord Kendrick Kimball. His parents, as your mother, Princess Almira so insightfully pointed out, are The Duke and Duchess of Chibuike, within the country of Fiera. It was once a proud kingdom during its earlier beginnings, but is today a _far_ more exultant _duchy_, I will have you to know."

"'_Duchy?'_ What the hell is _that?_" I was almost tempted to ask right then, seeing as, well, I honestly _didn't_ know.

I _still_ don't.

Well, I _didn't_, until I'd looked it up within the dictionary right before I'd started the previous entry, anyway, so that once I finally got to _this_ part of the overall evening, I wouldn't be as confused the _second_ time around.

_What? _So, _sue_ me.

As I've told you many times before, Journal, I, and in fact, a great deal of fellow Americans, don't honestly know a _chunk_ load's worth about royal terms and what not.

Okay, well, maybe that's just my _assumption_, more than 'fact,' but you get me.

I didn't even know how to correctly _spell_ the word until the online dictionary I'd used auto-corrected me, itself, with its _'Did you mean. . . .?'_ alert message.

And even _after_ I'd seen the proper spelling, I still didn't know how the heck I was meant to _say_ it, that's for damned sure.

I know.

"But, Will, your _uncle_ just said it, himself."

Yep, he sure did.

But it doesn't mean that I'd _remembered_ that in all this time, like so many of the general things which spew out of that man's mouth, in fact.

And so, because I'd promptly forgotten the word's pronunciation as I was typing it into my laptop, I kept thinking that it was either said one of two ways . . . _one_ of which, if you'll forgive me, greatly mimicked that of a particular, female hygienic device, except with an _"ee"_ sound attached at the end. . . .

Yeah. . . .

And then the _second_ way I thought it was meant to be pronounced was like "Doochee."

You know, sort of like the tail end of that one rowdy, former child star's last name.

_Between_ the two, I'd have _much_ rather embarrassed myself in front of "L.K.K." by having pronounced the place or area or _whatever_ his parents ruled as "_Doochee_," instead of . . . well, you get me.

_Anyway_, upon clicking onto the little sound byte clip thing provided next to the word, I was then reminded that it is actually called _"Dutch-ee,_" which, honestly, makes _much_ more sense.

I mean, based upon how it's spelled, and all.

But _as_ usual, I, and many others I know, tend to overly analyze certain words and automatically assume that some are meant to be pronounced all complicated-like, courtesy of the sometimes admittedly complicated way they may be spelled.

But this one actually _looks_ the way it's meant to be spoken, and I _still_ ended up getting it wrong.

In my head, anyway.

I didn't _dare_ to open my mouth about it at any time during the entire scope of that evening.

_Nooo_, sir.

Oh.

Before I forget, lemme quickly jot down the definition of a "duchy" for you, as well:

_'The territory of a duke or duchess.'_

. . . . I know.

"That's _it?_"

This is a prime example of why I tend not to know the definition to _a lot_ of words, especially the ones I may recently acquire within my continually increasing personal vocabulary.

Because at any time I _do_ bother to look them up, I'm even _more_ confused about what the damn thing actually is than I was in the first place.

So then, as a result, I ended up doing a bit of _extra_ research, this time about what the hell is the difference between a "duchy" and a "_dukedom_," a word I _am_ more familiar with . . . or, at least, knew of its previous _existence_.

I mean, you _gotta_, right, what with all the "Duke of" this, and "Duchess of" that you constantly hear about throughout the years regarding other Royal Families.

Anyway, so after this new, unexpected search, I'd managed to learn that a "Duchy" is the _'geopolitical domain,'_ it said, within which the duke or duchess possesses actual subjects and/or land holdings, or "fief," _another_ word I'd learned. (Boy, do _I_ feel increasingly _stupid_.)

But then a "_Dukedom_," on the other hand, is more so simply title based or a rank of nobility, and it isn't always necessarily attached to any sort of duchy.

Sooo . . . _basically_, then, I guess a duchy is pretty much like a kingdom, except maybe a step or so below that, and instead has its _dukes_ and _duchesses_ overseeing it.

But then I'd _also_ briefly read that duchies, like super back in the day, for example, were specific areas over which the dukes and duchesses ruled, but were still chump change by comparison to the super grand, overall land area whatever kingdom was also there ruled.

So then, _that_ made me a teeny bit confused, I mean because of what Eli had said about how . . . this "_Fiera"_ country, assuming I'd spelled _that_ right from how he'd said it, used to be a kingdom, but now is entirely a duchy.

I'm _still_ honestly befuddled by that, even now.

And then, too, if the country (another one, I might add, I'd sadly never heard of) is called "_Fiera_," then why are "K-Squared's" 'rents Duke and Duchess of "_Chibuike?_"

Shouldn't they be called The Duke and Duchess of "_Fiera_," instead?

That's _another_ thing which has always had me mixed up about titles and such.

I mean, why is it that all of these royal people have _so_ many different names, which are also usually _different_ from the actual country or whatever they're from?

Bahhh . . . head . . . _hurts_.

_Way_ too much psychoanalyzing so early in the morning like this.

I wasn't going to, but maybe later I'll just do a new, much quicker search, this time about the actual country, and learn a little more about its history.

And _no_, I'm not gonna do it because I want to learn more about "L.K.K.," either, Journal!

Yeah, I know that's what you're thinking.

Just because I'd openly admitted to you that yes, okay, I did, or _do_ find him to be a bit attractive, it doesn't mean that I'm now hopelessly _into_ him, to the point of wanting to know every last thing _about_ him.

I just think that it'd be a good idea to know, is all . . . you know, just in case Eli decides to make his next princess lesson for me all _about_ the country of Fiera and its history.

No, _really_.

As it was, it was a miracle that Eli didn't dwell on it during _dinner_, or point out the fact that I know jack-squat about the place.

I mean, sure, it _was_ technically only a fact known simply by _myself_, and maybe _Mom_, since we're both well aware of how Geographically-Challenged I can be.

But seeing as Eli constantly believes me to be some blithering ignoramus majority of the time, I'm sure that he was probably thinking along those lines, anyhow.

I guess he simply hadn't spoken up about it merely to save face for himself, that a member of his Royal Family actually _wasn't_ previously aware of the country of Fiera, the Duchy of Chibuike and all that jazz.

_Anyway_.

It's _still_ not for "Lordio's" sake that I might read up on his background, though.

It isn't.

_Moving_ on!

So, like I said, he and I are busy looking at one another like it's our first day of Preschool, where we don't know a soul, and I'm thinking about what to do next.

That is, _do_ I make the first move, or should _he?_

For a handshake, or something, I mean.

_Eli_ did, after all, but he seems to be more than just "quite familiar" with the nobleman, based upon their super super friendly interactions earlier, and indeed the remainder of the evening.

Plus, he did also keep simply calling him "_Kendrick_," by his first name (about which I am now absolutely certain), instead of adding the "Lord" title in front, unlike how my mom, Emin, and yes, even _I_ kept on doing throughout dinner whenever we (well, _they_ did, not I. _No_, way) directly spoke to him or were addressed beforehand.

Well, actually, Mom and Emin kept calling him "Lord _Kimball_," by his presumed last name, instead, and I, of course, followed suit since it seemed to be the correct thing to do, _I_ don't know.

No one had corrected me or made a face about it, so yeah.

Anyway, and then I thought about doing what my mom had when she'd first been introduced to Lord Kimball (There, _see?_ I'm just gonna stick with _that_ from here on out, all right? No more nicknames.) . . . which was nothing.

That is, she hadn't offered up her hand for him to shake, or kiss (_Ahh!_) or whatever he, as a Lord-person is meant to do whenever faced with a princess, or another "higher up." (Wait, we, er, they _are_ higher up on the "Royal Food Chain," aren't they? Princes and princesses and crap, yeah? _Obviously_ kings and queens are, I know that. At least, they _gotta_ be, I'd wager. And princes and princesses come from the aforementioned, so I suppose then, logically, they _would_ be "better" than Lords . . . _whatever_ the hell they honestly are, seriously.)

But was that the wrong, or _right_ thing to do?

Or maybe the right thing for _her_ to do, seeing as she's my mother and is technically "more important," or at least, had come first before me where being a princess is concerned?

But then, if _I_ do the same, then will I end up offending not only Lord Kimball, but his entire duchy-country-place, and effectively _void_ any sort of treaties it may possibly have with _Eli's?_

Or hell, with _this_ one?

Ugh.

Did I mention how much I truly _hate_ being a princess?

Even though I was utterly perplexed about what I should or _shouldn't_ do right then, I was about to once again settle upon the "Monkey see, Monkey do" mentality I'd tried to adopt about my mom (you know, during our little "fashion shoot" earlier), when Lord Kimball saved me the trouble.

At least, where how to properly greet him was concerned.

He didn't speak yet, mind, I guess because of that whole stupid "do not speak until spoken to" crappy rule (which, again, makes _no_ sense, because only a _fleet_ of people have already done so to me, to Mom, _and_ to Eli. But, also again, most of them naturally don't have the similar royal background or royal education like the two siblings, or Lord Kimball, as well, most likely, to know any better. _Wow_, did that sound _incredibly_ snooty. Sorry, sorry!), but _did_ offer up the same sort of neck-bow to me within respect.

Which meant that it was now up to _me_ to say the first few words, instead.

_Crap_.

You just _know_ that I'd screw that up, right?

Sure enough. . . .

". . . . U-Uh . . . h-hi? E-Er, I mean, _h-hello_, Lord. _Kimball!_ Lord _Kimball_, sorry," I said like the typically raving loon style I seem to consistently possess during such times, feeling my cheeks grow incredibly hot as I remembered at the last second what the guy's last name was and how to properly address him.

All I can say is, it's definitely a good thing that _Caleb_ had never turned out to be a prince, or something, otherwise I would have been _dead_ years ago from ample embarrassment over possibly getting his titles and junk wrong, like how I now felt with _Lord Kimball_.

And I only find him to be _cute_, not "in love worthy" as I had for the ex-Rebel Leader, to boot.

I'm sure that Eli, like the way I'd ended up doing for both Emin and Lord Kimball that entire night, was most likely _also_ keeping a mental (or _physical_, who knows with him) score card for _me_, as well, _but_ instead for how smart or _dumb_ I'd behave throughout the prestigious event (and seeing as it was also meant to serve as my first, stupid test for my royal lessons with him thus far, I wouldn't put it past him).

And if _that_ was the case, I _definitely_ got awarded about _fifty_ demerit points in that one moment, alone.

But at least all of my blunders, present, and possible future (which, again I will say, had sadly been the case) would continually be more or less isolated, courtesy of the private dining area we were all within.

_Still_ was ridiculously mortifying, all the same. . . .

So while Eli was, as I could then see, tightly clenching his teeth together in front of me but did his best to appear undaunted, and both my mom and even _Emin_ faintly chuckled within amusement (Yeah. Ha, _ha_.), Lord Kimball merely gave me another one of his adorable (Ah, shut _up_, already, Journal, 'cause, _yes_, I said it again.) crooked, closed lipped smiles before nodding his head in acknowledgment.

"Hmm . . . yes, 'Lord Kimball' will do quite fine, Your Royal Highness," he spoke softly, the previously faint rouge upon his otherwise pale face then beginning to deepen, just as _mine_ thankfully began to lessen a tick. "It truly is an honor to make _your_ acquaintanceship, as well, as it is your mother's, Princess Almira. I have heard quite a bit about you, Princess Almira, from my family, _and_ about _you_, Princess Wilhelmina, from The King throughout our mutual letters of correspondence these some odd weeks or so. . . ."

Lord Kimball trailed off a tiny bit after that, before flashing both Mom and me another smile, sort of like he'd just suddenly then revealed too much.

Meanwhile, _I_ just wanted to melt straight through the fancy, maroon colored carpet beneath us all, and seep past whatever the hell was underneath it, thereafter, I was feeling so humiliated all over again.

Why?

Because I could only _imagine_ the kind of crap Eli's been feeding this poor, unsuspecting guy all about me!

And for _weeks_, at that!

He (Eli) hasn't even personally "known" me for super long, either!

So not _only_ has he apparently been planning this little, so called romantic get together for ages, now, but he's _also_ probably been writing all sorts of defaming pieces of information about me like, _'So long as you be sure to consistently conspire against the Princess in order to effectively get your way, __and__, of course, take care within securing plenty of aspirin during which times you might be found out by her, you should do __quite__ well within properly handling her as your soon-to-be new bride, my boy!'_

And based upon Lord Kimball's ample abashment upon cutting himself off, there, that pretty much clinches it.

Am I _that_ presumptuously _defective_ to the male masses?

To _Caleb_.

To Emin, possibly.

To _Eli_.

And _now_, probably to _Lord Kimball_, as well?

Geez-Louise. . . .

Aww, gee.

Now I'm _depressed_, again.

And, seriously here, it truly _is_ far too early right now to be feeling _any_ kind of emotion, _especially_ not the heavy duty kind such as that.

I was trying my best to block out my furthered thoughts about the matter and whatever it was Eli really _had_ written within his letters to Lord Kimball, in addition to doing my best to fight the urge to outright _ask_ one or the both of them, when I instead did manage to get out, ". . . . N-Nice to meet _you_, as well, Lord Kimball. But you can just call me '_Will_,' as that's how I like to be called."

. . . . _What?_

That crap is _automatic_ for me, no matter _what_ situation I'm thrust into, damn it.

And _because_ it is so instinctive for me, I'd said it before I could stop myself (if only my _own_ sake of not garnering any more embarrassment, versus wishing to please _Eli_ by being a "good little girl"), and thus, utter surprise ensued.

For Lord Kimball, at least.

_Eli_, on the other hand (and my mom, and, Hell, even Emin and our surrounding _bodyguards_), didn't even _flinch_.

Okay, so he (Eli) _did_, what with his "Oh, my God, somebody _better_ hold me back, because I _swear_ I'm about to _shank_ this freaking girl in about _two seconds!_" sort of facial expression in that moment.

But everyone _else_ just seemed undaunted by such a request on my part, either because most of the people in that room were pretty much used to my various, _very_ atypical princess-like ways, _or_ because they simply couldn't care less.

My kind of people.

But Lord Kimball, naturally, was foreign to this, and perhaps within a general sense with any _other_ princess he may have come across throughout his life.

He blinked his eyelids rapidly, looking as though I'd just asked him one of Life's unanswerable questions, or something, before finally managing to compose himself long enough to respond, a bit waveringly, with, ". . . . I-If that is what you wish, Princess Wilhelmina, then -"

"- A-Ah, of _course_ it isn't, Kendrick, my good man! The Princess was merely speaking within _jest! _You will find that she can _quite_ comical, indeed!" Eli promptly interrupted, a bit "un-kingly-like," forcing a tight smile upon his face, while a light, obviously disapproving frown graced my _mom's_, as a result. Before anyone could have said anything about this, either for _or_ against, he then moved himself to the head of the table (which, being circular within shape, was tough to tell, really), extended the both of his arms out towards the remaining "Important People," and said, "_Now_, then! _Please!_ Let us take our seats and partake within the _delectable_ meal I am _sure_ to be had at such a fine establishment as this!"

Even though both Mom and I were visibly upset by our rude family member's weak "save," there, neither of us seemed to want to bother to amend it, for most likely the same reason of simply not wishing to hear his mouth run within avid complaint.

And so she and I simply took our place at the fancily decorated table, and did the stupid waiting thing for Eli to sit down before we could, ourselves.

_So_ lame.

I wanted to sit next to the still-ever-so-delicious _Emin_, but my _mom_ had beaten me to it, making me silently curse myself over the rotten luck I evidently had, and fleetingly wonder if _she_ didn't have a thing for him, _herself_.

Or _worse_, if _he_ didn't find _her_ to be quite alluring, himself, as while he _had_ been more or less gazing upon me for majority of the time since I'd arrived (which, of course, made me feel lighter than air, at the same time that it made me feel duller than _dirt_, thanks to those previous, unpleasant moments of mine right in _front_ of him), he suddenly began to look rather . . . _flustered_ the moment Mom had moved to sit next to him.

Oh, come _on_, man!

That's _totally_ not fair!

I mean, she _automatically_ gets a few extra points ahead of me in terms of impressing the opposite sex, _one_, because she's been a princess far longer than _I_ have, and thus knows what to do and how to act, even _with_ her decade-plus neglect of actively practicing the appropriate customs.

And _two_, she's already been _long_ since fully developed "in all the right places," if you get me, while _I'm_ still very much a "work in progress!"

So of _course_ men will fawn over her before they would ever do so for _me_.

_So_ uncool . . . _so_ uncool, indeed. . . .

But maybe it was mainly because of Mom's _perfume_ which had Emin so currently beside himself, as its soft, yet still noticeable aroma was rather inviting, and indeed, a familiar scent of hers (to me, anyway).

Why in the Hell didn't Eli instruct anyone from the "Makeover Mob" to leave _me_ any?

Probably because he didn't deem it "becoming" or something for a princess to wear the stuff, that's why.

And lucky Mom, that her brother's been paying more attention to _me_ and what _I'm_ doing, saying, and wearing all the time now, than he has been with her, so that's probably how she'd managed to get away with putting some on.

You win _this_ round, Mother Dearest. . . .

Besides, I was too busy being overcome by the musky, rugged, yet _relaxing_ sort of cologne _Lord Kimball_ seemed to be wearing, himself, which I could smell more of now that the two of us were within such close proximity.

I guess it's okay, then, for _male_ royal people to spritz on the good stuff, only.

I _would_ be more upset by that apparent rule or whatever it is, if I weren't so _woozy_ with secret delight over his scent.

Eww.

I'm making it sound like I was acting like an _animal_, feverishly sniffing out the pack to locate my _mate_, or something.

_Extra_ gross. . . .

But, really, though. I couldn't help myself.

I can't even _describe_ the way it smelled, the way _he_ smelled, beyond what I just had, already. And since I didn't _dare_ outright ask him what the cologne was called, I guess I'll _never_ be able to track it down and give it to, perhaps, _Caleb_, for his next birthday . . . _cough_. . . .

_Speaking_ of, that's one thing I've never honestly seen, er, _smelled_ Caleb do . . . or however you wanna say it.

Wear any sort of cologne, that is.

Not at school.

Not at any of our group get-togethers with our mutual friends, like earlier that day.

Not even at school _functions_, like any of our past dances, like Homecoming and such.

You know, whenever I "just so happened" to be close enough to him to get a good whiff.

_Man_, did I sound like an honest stalker just then. . . .

It's true, though.

About Caleb never having worn cologne before, I mean, not the stalker bit . . . yeah. . . .

I wonder why that is?

Maybe he, being the alien that he naturally is, simply has never been able to fully grasp the concept of spraying such fragrances onto himself, even after all this time on Earth.

Probably thinks it's odd to use "the stuff that stinks inside tiny bottles," or _however_ he might put it, like a lot of the _other_ Earthly "customs" he used to think was downright _insane_ when he first arrived to this planet.

Then again, _Cornelia_ wears a _ton_ of perfume, pretty much everyday, with seeming to add just a little _more_ whenever she's around the guy, and he's never seemed to find _that_ perplexing or bothersome in all this time.

So maybe it's probably a personal request of hers, then, that Caleb doesn't wear any, just in case she might be afraid that in by doing so, he'll attract a platoon of unwanted _admirers_ . . . well, unwanted by _Cornelia's_ standards, anyway . . . _and_ mine.

_Ugh_.

In _any_ event, I guess I can now understand that possible fear of hers, seeing as I was currently within the middle of focusing a bit more on Lord Kimball, and _forgetting_ more and more about . . . um . . . wait.

_What's_-their-names.

Oh, my God, I'd _just_ written it down!

_Right!_

_Caleb_, and _Emin!_

No, that totally _wasn't_ staged or anything, Journal. I really _did_ forget for a millisecond there.

Well, _damn_.

Either I need to go back to sleep right now and _fully_ regain my consciousness, or the mere _memory_ of Lord Kimball's intoxicating cologne is _that_ powerful, indeed.

Could you just imagine if _Matt_ had worn the same fragrance back when we were dating (instead of the admittedly at times overwhelming, in the not so friendly way, choice he'd wear . . . which he actually does no longer, now that I think about it, so I guess he eventually caught on that it really _wasn't_ doing him any favors where flattery was concerned)?

I probably would have _eloped_ with him and be pregnant with "Baby Number _Two_" by now, or something.

You.

You're _good_, You, whomever had created such a _wonderful_ brand. . . .

So, anyway, there we now are, sitting side by side and a bit _way_ too close for my (and perhaps even _his_, judging by the slight fidgeting he started to do for a few moments when we'd first sat down next to each other) comfort, and I'm trying to will myself to just relax, block out how _good_ he admittedly smelled, and focus instead upon my sudden appetite which was then ferociously making its way to the surface.

Yes.

Good.

_Food_.

That will be a _perfect_ distraction over the overall awkwardness of this ongoing situation, _and_ will act as a time killer, too, since all of us will be busy stuffing our faces to have to endure any small talk.

But then, thinking about food and actually eating it in front of Lord Kimball - In front of _Emin _(again, in his case), was only making me feel horribly ill then, _and_ adding to my grand superfluity. (Ha! _Another_ big word . . . sorta. Guess my mind's not that shot so early in the morning, _after_ all.)

Because that was a part of, if not the _main_ part of Eli's asinine princess lesson test for me tonight, after all.

Proper utensils, plates, drinking glasses and the like.

And I _still_ couldn't honestly recall much of that particular lesson, either, _especially_ not now, with pretty much all of my senses swimming within rattled affect.

Maybe I could just simply opt _out_ of eating, altogether . . . you know, for religious purposes, or something.

Nah.

Couldn't risk it, just in case everyone at the table suddenly felt I was trying to be _sacrilegious_, instead.

I guess I'm just going to have to try to continue on with my "Just Do Whatever _Mom_ Does" routine, which shouldn't be _too_ hard this time, seeing as she _was_ right across the table from me.

Okay.

No sweat.

_You can __do__ this, Will_, I silently encouraged myself, nervously clasping my once again clammy hands together and placing them upon my lap, while I then began to observe all of our bodyguards, eight, total, now (as we now must include Lord Kimball's evidently designated, raven haired protector, who was surprisingly _female_. I say this, only because the only time I've ever seen a female bodyguard, it's been for either my mom or myself, _also_ female. But I guess Lord Kimball's gal is possibly more than capable of taking out any sort of threat he may face all on her _own_, even if she didn't really _look_ it).

Without a word of instruction, they each decided to claim a different spot within the otherwise secluded area for his and herself.

Two of Eli's guys stood in front of the private dining room's dual entrance and exit, while the other two remained near our table, although standing far behind their King within silent vigilance, as always.

Then Tegan, _Mom's_ chickie, and Lord Kimball's unnamed chickie, each had chosen to place themselves in front of what evidently were the restaurant's kitchen doors, seeing as two, tuxedo wearing server dudes just then came out of them, one of them carrying a platoon of large, fancy and golden hued menus, while the other carried a generous pitcher of cool and refreshing looking water as they swiftly approached.

And as for Nova and Ernest, each of _them_ apparently had decided that it would be best to split apart for a change, with Ernest taking the far corner of the room, closest to Tegan and Lord Kimball's dark haired protector, and Nova taking the other, clear across from the three of them and closest to Eli's table-guarding . . . _guards_.

Yep.

No evildoer _dare_ drop in here, now.

Eli had initiated a bit of light chit chat with his two guests, and even with my mom (who honestly didn't seem all that interested, but I suppose went along with it, anyway, seeing as it didn't just include her) by that point, so I was thankfully off the hook within trying to strike up meaningful conversation with . . . well, _anyone_, really.

Plus, the two servers were also heading our way, as well, leaving me zero time to try, even if I'd wanted to (which, naturally, I _hadn't_).

Seeing them arrive at the table, Eli promptly excused himself from speaking to Mom and the others before briefly greeting the pair of ebony haired, surprisingly calm looking men (making them just about the only ones, besides that sickeningly super hot, Juvela fashion consultant lady from earlier back within the Presidential Suite, to ever appear that way whenever around the Royal Family), and then allowed them to do their welcoming thing.

I didn't bother to pay much attention to them, as one of them went on about specialty dishes and all that before courteously distributing the restaurant's presumed dinner menu to each of us, while the other silently filled each of our water glasses (Yay. At least that takes care of _that_ wonder, over which goblet had been which.).

After which, both men then proceeded to bow, before parting to give each of us a few minutes to decide on what we would choose to eat, I guess.

Like I said, I wasn't honestly paying much attention.

I did _start_ to again, however, right then, when Eli, after a few moment's pause and fleetingly gazing down upon his menu in hand, gaily revealed, "Ahh, _yes_ . . . I have heard quite a good deal of positive reviews about this particular establishment and its admirable cuisine, as _well_ as service - Which, thus _far_, at least, seems to be holding true to its glowing word, _and_ living up to its apt name. I _do_ hope that _you_ will find that it suits your particular tastes, Kendrick, as I had taken extra steps to be fully certain that 'Le Beau Expérience' also served a Vegetarian menu."

"I thank you for having done so, Sir. I am sure that _everything_ will be to each of our individual liking while we are here," Lord Kimball kindly replied with a small nod and typical one-sided smile, before suddenly then looking at me at the very tail end of his sentence.

Oh, God.

Was that a not-too-super-undetectable flirtatious sort of innuendo he just did there?

And was I _actually_ then beginning to feel sort of . . . _pleased_ by it?

What happened to his _shyness_ - To _our_ shyness?

Oh, wait.

No.

_There_ it goes, I could then see, as Lord Kimball's blanch face once more became suddenly flushed, and my _insides_, at least, followed suit.

Besides maybe Martin and his buddy, Alec (which is _still_ pretty unsettling to think about), I don't think I've _ever_ been able to make a guy so nervous before.

Feels pretty darn good . . . _especially_ since I'm usually experiencing it the other way around, like now, as well, but still.

Feels pretty darn good, indeed.

So, anyway, thanks to Lord Kimball, and, to a lesser extent, _Eli_, I finally had something _feasible_ to bring to the proverbial table of conversation.

". . . . You're a Vegetarian, Lord Kimball?" I asked within honest curiosity, somehow resisting the urge to curse aloud, as I could then feel everyone's eyes naturally settling onto me.

_Bleh_.

Instead of the now taken aback looking Lord Kimball (I suppose because he hadn't honestly expected me to take interest within his personal eating habit of choice) answering the question, however, _Eli_ promptly did it _for_ him, apparently seeming to believe that _his_ name was "Lord Kimball," as well.

And he thinks _I'm_ rude.

_Yeesh_.

"Yes, he _is_, Princess Wilhelmina, since he was a very young fellow, indeed. In _fact_, that is the inspiration towards his present scholastic focus - _Isn't_ it, Kendrick?" the King of Marsily eagerly gushed with unmistakable pride which a parent would possess for his or her child.

_Boy_, did he really seem fond of this dude.

No _wonder_ he wanted to play matchmaker for the two of us, all the more.

But then, in that case, Eli must either really _hate_ Lord Kimball, after all, _or_ must really secretly _love_ _me_, by that logic, in order to want to do such a thing in the first place.

Ah, conundrums. (Although I certainly hope that it is the former reason, as I don't think that I can handle a _loving_ version of Eli. . . . _Ick_.)

"Yes, Sir, it is," Lord Kimball replied with yet another one of his crooked smiles, before turning his attention onto me as he shyly continued. "Well, that is to say, you see, Princess Wilhelmina, I am currently within my second year at university - At the 'University of Haluk' within New York City, that is - pursuing a Master within 'Food Studies,' as well as a Minor within 'Culinary Science. . . .' It truly has been _quite_ fascinating thus far, I have to say, as I continue to learn about the amalgamated aspects all about food, such as the social, cultural, economic, and even _psychological_ factors which have influenced its consumption patterns and such throughout history, past _and_ present. It . . . certainly places quite the difference within perspective, food, that is, as a whole. . . ."

I have to say that listening to Lord Kimball go on about his evident career choice, with such obvious passion, and watching his entire demeanor finally begin to relax (at least, "finally" where _I_ was concerned) as he explained it all to me _was_ pretty cute. . . .

_And_ admirable, as well.

I mean, because it's _always_ pretty cool to meet someone, at _any_ age, really, who clearly knows what they want out of life and finds something which they truly enjoy, you know?

And considering that he's . . . what . . . like eighteen, or nineteen-years-old apparently, based upon his current college level and all, that's even _more_ impressive . . . as _well_ as envy-worthy.

After all, look at _me_. _I'm_ soon going to be eighteen, myself, _and_ graduate from high school soon after (_hopefully_, anyway), and I _still_ don't honestly know exactly what I want to do with my _own_ life.

Yeah, we've already talked about this briefly a few times before, Journal, I know, and I did state that Veterinary Medicine does interest me a bit . . . I think.

That I'd mentioned that, that is . . . and that it interests me, kinda.

I mean, I _do_ have the whole "Animal-Human Simpatico" thing going on, hands down, thanks to my specific Guardian abilities, true, and I _am_, as "we all know," great with science.

So I guess it wouldn't be _too_ difficult for me to pursue, especially since just in case I'd forget my training for whatever reason, whatever animal I'm trying to . . . "fix," could easily just do their tapping into my emotions thing, maybe even read my mind (well, _some_ eerily have before in the past, anyway) to learn what I'm after, as well, and _voilà!_

_Instant_ health recovery!

I'd be a regular "Doctor Didlittle," indeed.

Well . . . I _could_ be, at least, if such a profession didn't _also_ require a bit of mathematical know-how.

Oh _sure_, it would mainly be used for such events like calculating the correct amount of medication to give to the furry, winged, or scaly little creature, based upon their age and size.

Okay.

But that's a _pretty_ big deal.

For _me_, at least.

Well, in _general_, as well.

I mean, with _my_ current level and struggling on and off with my math classes, past _and_ present, one little slip up from me within the office and _poof!_

Bye-Bye, pretty bird, lizard, _or_ cat . . . or _frog!_

_Nooo_, no no.

_Too_ much pressure.

Not to mention that I'd probably just _cry_ my eyes out just about every single day over witnessing a poor little animal's _injury_, let _alone_ possible _death_, being that I love all of them so dearly (and being that they all generally pick up upon my emotions a lot, as well, the added stress would probably kill them, _anyway_). . . .

Hmm. . . .

No, I think that _that_ settles whether or not I might pursue that particular occupation.

_Besides_, I never really felt super impassioned about taking a crack at it, anyhow.

And that's precisely what I _want_ to feel, _everyday_, about _whatever_ I inevitably select as my vocation, just like Lord Kimball. . . .

Bah.

Now I feel like a giant, idiotic and useless _bum_ all over again, who will probably end up living with my mother until I'm _forty-years-old _or until she finally _dies,_ and also bunk with a platoon of the animals I was too sensitive to try to operate on within my _earlier_ years.

But methinks I'd rather be _that_, than someone's - _Many_ "someones" - future _ruler_. . . .

Seeing as Lord Kimball was suddenly so invigorated, and now, in truth, so was I (well, you know, like I said, besides my feelings of "You _suck_"-ism over it), I decided to humor him by asking a followup question.

'Cause, you know, like I said, I honestly _was_ pretty interested within the current topic.

Hey, what do _I_ know about Culinary Arts and all that, after all?

". . . . I see. So, then . . . will you become a chef, a Pastry Chef, o-or a . . . _Vegetarian_ Chef or _however_ it's called?" I asked a bit indecisively, although for once no natural embarrassment followed thereafter.

I guess I really _was_ intrigued by what Lord Kimball had to say. . . .

About _food!_

Lord Kimball renewed his "loppy-smile" once again, before softly chuckling, most likely at my previous fumble. (And _that's_ when my formerly absent abashment set in again.)

"Well . . . I am honestly not entirely sure at the moment as of yet, Princess Wilhelmina," he said with a small nod, our discussion now becoming one-on-one, evidently, as Eli (most likely strategically, the little _rat_) had by then begun another three-way conversation between himself, Mom, and _darling_ Emin, in between perusing each of their dinner menus for what seemed good to eat. "After all, there are _so_ many different avenues to pursue, upon graduation, within the Food Industry: '_Publishing_;' 'Marketing;' '_Public Relations'_ . . . even _Nonprofit_ work. Now _that_ would _truly_ be edifying, as _well_ as self-satisfactory, indeed. . . . However, I believe that I will most likely work within the framework of further establishing a much broader scope for and about the Vegetarian, and even Vegan communities in terms of continually providing the finest cuisine within various restaurants . . . which is why I've recently managed to acquire a _fine_ internship at 'Gardenia Vegetarian Cuisine,' which is _also_ within New York City _and_ close enough to the university. . . ."

I immediately did want to ask Lord Kimball what, exactly, _was_ the actual difference between Vegetarianism and Veganism, since I never truly _have_ understood that, not being _either_, myself and all.

But I figured that it was probably safest _not_ to do so, just in case I ended up saying the wrong thing again (which is always a strong possibility for me) and offended the guy, _and_ his obvious passion and lifestyle.

So, instead, I simply nodded within semi-understanding, and decided to offer up some form of compliment.

"That's really . . . _involved_ - In a _good_ way, of course," I said with a faint smile of reassurance, blindly reaching out for my previously untouched golden menu which lay before me. "I really hope that it all works out for you, Lord Kimball . . . maybe even to the point of becoming _crazy_ famous and writing a bunch of Vegetarian-friendly cookbooks. E-Er, well, I mean, not _crazy_-crazy, like -"

"- I _completely_ understand, Princess Wilhelmina, if you'll forgive me. And I thank you," Lord Kimball gently interjected with another nod, before following suit with the menu grabbing. "At least now, I'll know what to write for my premiere Dedication. . . ."

Oh, my.

There he goes again with his subtle, yet _not_-so-subtle flirtations!

Boy, was _he_ getting good at catching me off guard with those.

And _because_ he had, I could only let out an awkward, half giggle, half _snort_, which resulted within a prompt "Tomato Face" moment for me, and swift apology for it before looking away.

_God_.

I wasn't even trying, or indeed even really _wanted_ to impress or charm this guy, and I was failing miserably, _anyway_.

But at least Lord Kimball's apparently good upbringing continually stepped in and prevented him from making a big deal about it, since he only offered up a light "It's quite all right, Princess Wilhelmina" within reply, before silence finally claimed the two of us.

Normally, _that_ would bother me just as much, as it had earlier on, of course, but seeing as my face was still feeling super hot and, as a result, most likely just as crimson as my _hair_, I _needed_ time to emotionally recuperate.

And so, I basically thrust my entire head into the large menu now within my hands, and pretended to be engrossed within its text, while watching within the corner of my eye to see if Lord Kimball was starting to do the same, before I actually _did_ see for real whatever it is I might wish to eat.

As he did, and I began to calm down and more properly look over the menu, myself, my stomach then started to renew its efforts within letting me know that it needed nourishment, and it needed it _now_.

But there were so many damned _choices!_

_Sooo_ many.

And I didn't honestly know which could actually be selected, and which couldn't, _without_ having Eli further breathing down my neck.

Plus, now knowing of _Lord Kimball's_ personal eating habits, I was feeling a bit hesitant to order anything other than lots and _lots_ of _salads_ . . . which I'm not a huge fan of to begin with.

Evidently, however, Eli had _all_ of that figured out _ahead_ of time (with no real surprise, there), because a few seconds later, when the male servers came back out to take our individual orders, it turned out not to be quite _so_ 'individual,' after all.

That is, _clearly_ the guy, in addition to investigating an appropriate restaurant for tonight's venue, he had _also_ done the the same with its _menu_ plan, and already went ahead and decided what every last person was meant to eat.

_That_ was sweet of him, wasn't it?

"Ah, yes! _Here_ you are! We will all, of course, commence with an Appetizer," Eli said as soon as the pair of restaurant employees approached, one to take everyone's order, while the other collected our menus, which evidently had merely been for _show_.

He then proceeded to rack off a long list of various foods and beverages, not simply for the Appetizers, but for the entire scope of the dinner, itself.

And while Lord Kimball and Emin merely sat there with content, and even appreciative _smiles_ upon each of their faces, clearly having zero qualm about what the pompous man selected for them as though _toddlers_, _Mom_ and _I_, on the other hand, looked positively _disgusted_.

I was tempted to speak up, damn the potential mortification to follow thereafter, but she beat me to it after the male servers exited the scene with our now useless menus.

"Isn't it truly _wonderful_ to have such a host as The King, who was so _gracious_ - And even perhaps _clairvoyant_ enough as to select each of our entire meals overall, Lord Kimball, Mr. Evgar, '_Wilhelmina_,' dear?" Mom said with false, sugary sweetness which really only those who did not know her well enough, like Emin and Lord Kimball, naturally, would believe to be genuine.

I immediately resisted the strong urge to burst out into a strong fit of laughter then, especially upon looking at her toothy, tight smile, and then over to Eli, whose neck I could faintly see beginning to grow red, either within bashfulness _or_ anger.

Most likely the _latter_.

These are the kind of moments which help remind me just how much I really _do_ love my mother.

". . . . Well, _indeed_, Almira! It _is_, after all, a king's _duty_ to be well informed _and_ mindful of the needs of his people - Or, rather, as this particular case may be, the needs of his _associates!_" Eli said within response before Emin or Lord Kimball could perhaps do so, themselves, forcing as stiff a smile upon his face as his sister's.

"Y-Yes, indeed, Sir, and thank you, again, for having done so," Lord Kimball chimed in with a soft smile, before then quickly looking over to my mom. "That is, if you'll pardon me, Princess Almira, The King had been so kind enough as to provide an online link to this restaurant's menu during our most recent correspondences, in order to make _further_ certain that I would be all right with its offerings. And so I had gone ahead and informed him of what I would most likely partake in this evening, which he, again, was so kind enough to order on my behalf just now. . . ."

"And I, _myself_, having already dined at this marvelous establishment a few times before, had _also_ further assured both The King _and_ The Lord Kimball that anything which may be eaten _or_ imbibed here will truly be superb," Emin suddenly added with a warm simper flashing across his gorgeous face, looking at everyone seated at the circular table, before settling his eyes onto me and deepened the smile.

_Swoon_.

Even though he was more or less siding with Eli, and thus this awarded him (_and_ Lord Kimball, at that) a few negative points upon _his_ score card, he _did_ get a few _positive_ ones added back on after giving me that dreamy smile. . . .

Mom, who still didn't seem all too enthused about it, at least dropped her _fake_ smile and relaxed a little bit, looking away from the three males at the table and locked eyes with me, instead.

". . . . Well, while _I_ have never eaten here before to honestly know, at least each meal _sounded_ delectable enough, at least, right, Honey? And _thankfully_ neither of us possess any sort of _food_ allergies, either," she remarked with a light, although warm simper towards me, before then coolly sliding her eyes towards Eli and gave _him_ an even sort of look about that. "I just hope that none of the _wine_ your uncle has _also_ selected on our - On _your_ behalf will not be too strong for you. . . ."

Wait, what?

_Wine?_

We're back to _this_ again?

When did _that_ come up during our unified little order, anyway?

Clearly, I _hadn't_ been paying much attention to Eli's previous ramblings, after all.

Otherwise, I would have _definitely_ spoken up, no matter the consequences . . . like right now.

"_Huh?_ But you know that I don't really like wine, though, Mom," I said before I could stop myself, although I honestly really hadn't much plan to do so in the first place.

It _was_ the truth, after all.

Mom knew it.

Even _Eli_ knew it . . . I think.

But _he_ generally never really cares about what I want, _or_ how I feel, anyhow . . . again, like right now.

"_Nonsense_, Princess Wilhelmina! True, certain wines are _not_ as . . . _favorable_ as others, however, one cannot experience such fine dining _without_ its wondrous accompaniment! . . . . I do believe you were already previously aware of this, _yourself_, if I can correctly recall," the Jackass said within response to my semi-outburst with slightly narrowed eyes to go along with _another_ one of his binding smiles, as he made a blatant reference to my princess lessons.

_Pfft_.

At this point, I'll _gladly_ take another two or _three_ of those stupid lessons as "punishment," so long as he just shuts _up_ about _this_ one, however _how_ indirect about it he's being.

And how backwards _is _he, to actually _want_ me to consume alcohol, especially being _underage_ - And an underage _princess_, at that?

Even if it _was_ for a "special occasion," which I think is also why my mom had let it _slide_, it's _still_ being backwards. . . .

But _anyway_, seeing as this will take a while to get through, _all_ of the crap (by that I mean _food_, which, even though Eli had just helped himself within deciding which ones I'd ingest, turned out to be pretty good stuff . . . but _shhh_ about that, of course), I will now do another one of my trusty lists, seeing as I've gotten so good at doing as such:

**WILL VANDOM'S _LE BEAU_ _EXPÉRIENCE_ . . . EXPERIENCE (ABOUT FOOD)**

● _Round I: the Appetizers_

**All of Us (Negating Lord Kimball, who is, again, a Vegetarian) Had Had**: '_Cucumber __Wrapped Peekytoe Crab Meat, with Easter Egg Radish and Confit Meyer lemon Dressing_.'

**Description: **Um . . . well, for starters, I don't know what the hell a "_confit_" is, or how it contributed to the "Meyer Lemon Dressing," seeing as I, unlike Lord Kimball, am _not_ a chef-in-training, but it surprisingly wasn't bad.

The entire appetizer, in fact.

I mean, sure, when it _first_ got to the table and placed in front of me, I was a teeny tiny bit wary. After all, I hadn't been the one to _order_ it, I will say _again_.

But it _did_ look kinda cute, though, the three pieces, rather, the way each green cucumber sliver was neatly wrapped around the tender looking chunks of yummy crab meat. (Hey. Crab meat is _always_ good to me, no matter the type of dish, foreign or not.)

They honestly sort of looked like _shotgun shells_ to me, really.

Which I guess was befitting, considering I wasn't sure whether or not my mouth was about to play a risky game of _Russian Roulette_ with the dish.

But it _smelled_ inviting enough, at least.

The only thing I _wasn't_ too keen on, after I had taken my first bite, that is, was the "Easter Egg Radish" slices placed on top of each. I've never really cared for radishes much, period, although, to be fair, this one _was_ slightly more mild than others I've tried before.

Still.

Had to discreetly push those aside, using the lemony sauce decorating the whole of my plate as my accomplice when I'd used it to drench the little suckers in hiding.

Oh, and in case you're wondering _why_ it's called "Easter Egg Radishes," that's just because of the way it looks, I guess.

I mean, that's pretty much what _I_ figured, anyway, seeing as some parts of the mostly white vegetable had a few hues of red, pink, and even purple I think thrown into the mix.

_I_ don't know.

Didn't matter _how_ "festive" it tried to look, I _still_ didn't eat the rest.

**Eating Execution Personal Grade:** Um . . . a _B-minus_, maybe?

Well, I didn't pick up any of the cucumber wraps with my _hands_, as I probably would have _normally_ done under any other normal _circumstance_, considering they _were_ pretty much super-extra fancy sushi rolls, really.

But seeing as this wasn't anywhere _near_ close to a "normal circumstance," I had succeeded within resisting the initial urge to do so, and used a fork and knife.

_Which_ fork and knife?

. . . . I admittedly have no clue.

Like I said, I had planned on doing everything I'd see my _mom_ do and I kinda _did_ successfully later on as the overall meal progressed, but seeing as my brain had shut down and my _stomach_ had completely taken over by that point, pretty much, I just reached for the nearest utensils and began to chow down.

Had it been offensive, _or_ well received by anyone, namely Eli?

I don't honestly know, and I don't rightly _care_, as I had at least remembered, before wolfing my appetizers down (although as "ladylike" as possible) to make it a point to _never_ look his way again from the time we'd all started to eat, up until the final morsel of food graced each of our lips.

It was the _only_ way I'd be able to get through it, naturally.

In fact, I tried my best to pretty much block out the _entire_ left hand side of the circular table, where all of the men were seated, and only look either straight ahead at my mom from time to time, down at my plate, or to my right towards the dining area's dual entrance and exit as my preferred focal.

**Impressing Either Lord Kimball or Emin Personal Grade:** . . . . Probably a_ C-minus_, for all the reasons listed above.

**Lord Kimball's Appetizer: **_'Baby Black Kale Caesar Salad, with Capers, and Cabot Clothbound Cheese Crouton'_

**Description:** Uhhh . . . you'd have to ask _him_, honestly, since I didn't eat the stuff, naturally, or anything _else_ of his, for that matter.

But it _did_ look kinda yummy, from what I briefly saw when the servers came and brought it to the table.

It was pretty much bathed within the cheesy flakes (which I guess means that eating dairy is something Lord Kimball is personally all right with, I don't know), and crunchy looking croutons.

Even though I personally prefer "Romaine Lettuce" above all of its other leafy 'cousins,' I mean, if I absolutely _have_ to eat a salad, of course, I think that I might've given _this_ one a shot, based upon how it looked.

I mean, at least it seemed to possess a pretty good cheese to crouton ratio to possibly help drown out any gross taste which may have been had . . . you know, seeing as I don't think I've ever tried "Baby Black Kale" before, myself, to honestly know for sure.

**Accompanied Beverage of Choice for Us All:** _'Pinot Gris'_

**Description (as illustrated by one of our Servers, as he presented it):** _"This particular 'Pinot Gris' is precisely what it __should__ be, if I do say so, myself: enriched with a gentle citrus and delicate, tropical fruitiness, and __just__ the right amount of a complex underlining of other orchard-type fruits to give it a crisp, refreshing finish. . . ."_

So, why don't you _marry_ it, already?

Geez.

All _I _gotta say is, wine is wine to _me_.

Although I will at _least_ give it a mild thumb's up for having the "fruitiness" the server guy had been talking excessively about. . . .

● _Round II: the Soups_

**All of Us (**_**Including**_** Lord Kimball) Had Had: **_'Warm Vichyssoise'_

**Description: **Sounds extra fancy, I know. The whole "vichyssoise," I mean.

It also sounds like it's some _complicated_ sort of dish, as well.

Nope.

To neither, that is.

Basically, it's just a thick soup which usually consists of chunky potatoes, onions, those leek thingies, and cream.

_Obviously_, I've had it before, courtesy of my mom.

Well not _this_ specific vichyssoise, clearly, but within a general sense.

Except that most of the time whenever Mom makes it, she usually serves it chilled.

This one, as though the name hadn't been a dead indication, had been served _hot_.

And that was just fine with _me_, considering the "_Winter Wonderland_" going on outside.

Even though I _had_ been pretty warmed up by that point, it still helped to take a nice bite . . . or _gulp_ out of the chill.

**Eating Execution Personal Grade:** An A . . . _minus_, _I_ think, anyway, because by then I wasn't _as_ starving as before, thanks to those bullet shaped crab meat rolls, so I was actually able to pay _better_ attention to what my mom was doing, before doing the same.

I'm sure that she probably thought it was a bit odd the way I kept watching her like a hawk, waiting for her to pick up her spoon, dip it sideways into the bowl and take a noiseless little sip before _I_ warily followed suit, but hey.

I was confident that I was - _She_ was totally doing it right, since I was taking extra care not to eat the dish as I normally would any _other_ type of soup.

So . . . yeah.

Methinks I'll bump that "A-minus" to a solid "_A_," instead, if no one minds.

**Impressing Either Lord Kimball or Emin Personal Grade:** Oh, I _so_ totally had to have "wowed" the both of them _this_ time . . . although I do remember that I _did_ make a few slurping noises here and there . . . and that I did _also_ lean forward and slouched a bit in the process. . . .

Oh, _and_ that I _had_ briefly placed my elbow onto the table. . . .

_Damn_ it.

_D_.

In fact, revise my "A" above to a "_D_," as _well_.

. . . . I suck.

**Accompanied Beverage of Choice for Us All: **_'Sauvignon Blanc'_

**Description (which, again, didn't come from me, but from the Servers as they poured this **_**new**_** one): **_"__This__ lovely white wine offers a light to medium-bodied, refreshing __crispness__, as well as notable acidity. And being __quite__ the 'food-friendly' sort of wine, it will terrifically accompany your vichyssoise!"_

. . . . Okay, then.

If you say so, pal.

Once again, to _me_, it was just another glass of unwanted wine . . . and _this_ one was _really_ unwanted, since it honestly tasted like _grass_, or hay.

Just what I needed, right?

Gimme back that _Pinot Gris _one, instead, then.

● _Round III: the Main Course_

**All of Us (Once again negating Lord Kimball) Had Had:** _'Crispy Amish Chicken with Spicy Broccolini, Roasted Spring Garlic Mash, and Sherry Vinegar'_

**Description:** Ahhh . . . how I _adore_ chicken.

By this time, I _was_ starting to feel a bit full, even though the previous meals had at least been rather light going down, but upon getting a really, _really_ good whiff of the poultry set before me, I knew that I could definitely make some room.

And then couple it with the inviting aroma of the roasted garlic mashed potatoes and . . . _oh_ yeah.

_Heavenly_.

Although the fact that I was about to ingest something which would then make my breath possibly become _rank_, and something which was once again _meat_ did make me feel a bit nervous again to be seated next to Lord Kimball, somehow I did manage to make it through.

I don't really know _why_ it's called "Amish," but the chicken was absolutely _delicious_, even _with_ the crispy skin left on it (which is something I normally forgo).

But the _broccolini_, which definitely had been true to its word about being "_spicy_," I had to omit from my meal completion, as I simply couldn't handle it.

_What's_ "Broccolini," you ask?

Well, just sort of think of it like pieces of regular broccoli which have not yet finished _puberty_, really, seeing as their stalks are much thinner, and their . . . "Mop-Tops" as _I_ call them (you know, the super greeny parts of the vegetable . . . the non-stalks, or whatever) are much smaller.

I haven't had them often, but whenever I have, they're usually just more so on the _sweet_ side, and have never been anywhere _near_ as red hot as _those_ dudes.

And as for the mashed potatoes, of _course_ they were mmm, mmm, _good_ . . . even if, again, it _did_ put me at risk for a strong bout of Halitosis in eating them . . . although I do think that I can recall hearing once about how vinegar can help cure Bad Breath.

And seeing as the overall dish apparently had some in it, I guess it could have acted as a counterbalance, then.

**Eating Execution Personal Grade:** . . . . Should I even _bother_ with this, anymore? I mean, even _with_ having copied my mom with the _soup_, I realize _now_ that I still ended up doing something stupid.

But . . . for the sake of continuity . . . a C-plus . . . I _guess_.

Well, I _did_ remember, or realize, rather, that the giant fork, instead of the smaller one still set upon the table next to my plate was the correct one to use, at least . . . and, I mean, there isn't really a whole lot of ways to screw up _this_ specific meal.

It's a _chicken_, so you cut it, then use your _fork_ to eat it.

Oh, but I _did_ also use my fork to eat my mashed potatoes, as well, or to scoop them up, rather. . . . Was _that_ right?

Ah, _damn_ it!

_And_ I kept leaving _leftovers_ on my plate!

I _do_ remember now that _that_ wasn't a good thing to do, according to my dinner etiquette lesson.

Holy _Hell_, do I really, _really_ suck. . . .

Downgrade that grade again, "Teacher," because methinks I'll be taking another _D_, please. . . .

**Impressing Either Lord Kimball or Emin Personal Grade:** Not quite an "F" (_yet_), but not quite a "D," either, on this one, or even a "D-minus," as I think that even _that_ might be a bit too generous . . . so I'm just going to _invent_ a grade and give myself an "R. S.," for "_Ridiculously_ Sucky. . . ."

**Accompanied Beverage of Choice for Us All (Except Lord Kimball): **_'__Riesling'_

**Description (yes, courtesy of the Servers):** _"Riesling wines can be __highly__ aromatic, as you will each soon see for yourselves, either with apple, pear, or peaches at the forefront of its delectable scent, which mix with invitingly soothing floral undertones, and often even __honey__ or zesty __spice__ lightly hitting the nose! And on the __palate__, this wine mirrors that of its brilliant aroma, bringing along with it citrus and tropical nuances!"_

. . . . Please.

No more . . . _wine_.

I can't _take_ it anymore.

Even _if_ this one had been a thousand times better than that gross Sauvignon Blanc junk.

Yes.

A _thousand_ times better.

**Lord Kimball's Main Course: **_'Port Wine Seitan'_

**Description:** . . . . I'm sorry, here.

I mean, I'm honestly _not_ trying to sound . . . "prejudiced" or insensitive or _whatever_ you want to call it in regards to Lord Kimball's eating preferences, here, but . . . _eww_.

_Seriously_ eww.

I'm _sorry!_

But you should have _seen_ it, like _I'd_ regrettably had to when it was brought to him!

You know those alien or monster movies, and how the _entrails_ look, after a human, or two, or _twenty_ has just finished being massacred by the otherworldly predator?

Yeah.

There you have it.

I _know!_

That's _so_ horrible to say about the guy's vegetable dish!

But that's _seriously_ what it looked like to me!

The whole plate was absolutely _murdered_ with what I guess (or _hope_) was a red wine sort of sauce, while various pieces of what appeared to be sliced mushrooms and . . . Spare rib-ish looking pieces (although it obviously _couldn't_ be, considering who was eating it) drowned in it.

About the only thing which _did_ look appetizing on Lord Kimball's plate were the only two other things I could readily recognize, which was the ice cream scoop shape and amount of mashed potatoes . . . sitting on top of . . . _I_ don't know, a giant onion ring, I guess, and a few strands of spinach underneath that.

Like I've said before in the past, Journal, I'm up for trying new things . . . for the _most_ part, I guess.

But _that_ dish . . . unless there's another way it could be prepared without looking so . . . _heinous_, then no.

I'm sure it tastes super _awesome_ and all that, but no.

No, thank you.

**Accompanied Beverage of Choice for Lord Kimball: **_'Pinot Noir'_

**Description (by da Servers, oui): **_"Your Excellency, __this__ wine you have selected embodies flavors which are reminiscent of __wondrous__ plums, sweet, ripened red berries and cherries, even __tomatoes__! You might also be able to detect a faint, although still noticeable __wood__-like flavor, as well."_

I don't think I've ever learned _so_ much about wine, about _alcohol_, period, as much as I had this evening, I'm telling you.

And even though I'm _still_ not a huge fan of the stuff, I can at least say that I now just might possess a newfound sort of . . . _respect_ for it, especially after having heard about and _tried_ so many in one sitting.

Now I can kinda see why people go away over the weekend at times to do that whole "Wine Tasting" thing.

_I_ just always thought that that was mainly just used as an _excuse_ for them to get piss drunk.

● _Round IV: the Dessert_

**All of Us (which once again included Lord Kimball) Had Had: **_'Chocolate Coconut Marquise'_

**Description:** Sweet, merciful Heavens, I really _can't_ eat anymore!

. . . . But . . . it _is_ chocolate. . . .

And _ohhh_, what wonderfully _wonderful_ chocolate it had been.

_No_ idea why it's called a "Marquise," although Eli _did_ end up making a curious little (and _stupid_, to me, anyway, even though I didn't honestly get it) jolly sort of reference to Lord Kimball's evident sibling, his "older brother," and how it was a shame that he was not also here to enjoy _this_ particular dish.

_I_ don't know.

Don't ask _me_.

Eli's a mysterious _moron_, of that I _do_ know.

Anyway, back onto the yummy treat.

It was _frozen_, first off, or _they_ were, rather, the two, rectangular pieces placed upon each of our plates, which were also accompanied by . . . I don't know, a _meringue_ of some kind (which looked as though it had honestly been _torched_ a bit, too), and sprinkled lightly with _super_ good, chopped Pistachios.

Oh, _and_ with cocoa powder dusting the top, as well, _and_ a rich, smooth chocolate syrup decoratively drizzled beneath it.

All of it just . . . _melted_ (although I suppose it'd _have_ to, since it was frozen) in my mouth, and _oozed_ out "Oh, my _God!_"-ness potential.

And being the avid, self-admitted "_Chocoholic_" which I am, I'd _almost_ moaned out said words upon taking my first bite.

There were _other_ flavors mixing in with the chocolaty goodness, too, like a mellow sort of _coconut_ taste, and even a bit of citrus-y lime.

Ha.

Listen to me go on.

I sound like a professional Food Critic, now.

_Ooh!_

Maybe I can do _that_ as my career.

Just travel the world, eating nothing but tasty chickens, mashed potatoes, and frozen chocolate ice cream . . . _cake_ sort of dishes.

I'd _definitely_ pack on quite a bit of poundage in the process, but it'd be _soooo_ worth it, if I got to eat more of _this_ delectable treat. . . .

There was _another_ taste I'd managed to pick up while continuing to eat my chocolate, too.

It was sort of _rum_-like, I think.

So I bothered to ask about it.

". . . . That's because it _is_ rum, Sweetie," my mom had answered with a faint smile, a mixture of natural concern for her child to have been continually consuming _far_ more alcohol than she ever has within her entire life, as _well_ as vague irritation, which was most probably reserved for her baby _brother_ that he'd _allowed_ such beverages to be put within said child's vicinity in the first place.

But by _that_ point, I didn't honestly care anymore.

I wasn't really sure if it was because I was too busy "making love" to my dear, _literally_ sweet chocolate, _or_ because my naturally low (_very_ low) alcohol tolerance was _already_ doing a piss poor job of combating all of the _previously_ imbibed alcoholic beverages still overflowing within my system.

_Whichever_ the reason, I was finally, _finally_ beginning to feel much more at ease within my own skin.

_So_ much so, that I'd actually "unbanned" my eyes from gazing over at the left hand side of the table, at last.

I looked over at Emin first, who apparently had already been looking at _me_, with a sort of amused look upon his face, which made me fleetingly wonder if it wasn't because he might have been thinking about how possibly easy it'd be to take advantage of my potentially inebriated state.

In which case, _I_ say bring it on.

I mean, of _course_ I've never been for any such acts within a general sense, but a sloppy, drunken _make out_ session with his _unbelievably_ hot self would be just fine with _me_.

Hmm.

Add _another_ handful of points within his _favor_ onto his score card just for that.

I know.

I'm bad. . . .

_Anyhow_, I then let my eyes wander over to my _other_, semi . . . "interest" seated next to me, and he, too, appeared to be slightly entertained, which, of course, _then_ made me feel briefly _panicked_ for a sec, like maybe I had some chocolate syrup or bits of Pistachio stuck on my face.

But seeing as Mom hadn't previously alerted me to anything like that, and that Lord Kimball was currently merely smile, smile, _smiling_ at me as usual and nothing more, I guess I was safe.

And _since_ I was still gleefully riding the waves of chocolaty bliss, I sent one right back at him without hesitation.

It was actually more so along the lines of a _grin_, really.

A "_Cheshire Cat_"-like grin, more like it.

But that only seemed to _tickle_ the young lad's fancy, as _he_ followed suit (along with a monstrous blush, of course) and flashed his evidently perfect teeth for the first time.

. . . . _Extra_ cute.

Annnd a few extra points heading _his_ way, as well. . . .

_Boy_, was this competition getting heated.

Okay, so not _really_, and yeah, okay, so it was _thus_ far based upon shallow reasons, for the most part.

You know, who was the hotter guy and all.

But, really, here . . . Lord Kimball wasn't, or _isn't_ all _too_ bad a guy, as far as I could tell.

I mean, he seems rather ambitious, and passionate about life . . . or, at least, passionate about his personal career pursuits, anyway.

And being so knowledgeable about it thus makes him _smart_, as well.

_And_ with all the blushing and usage of a soft tone of voice to further convey his shyness (at least, whenever talking to _me_) means that he's also _sensitive_ . . . not within an annoying, _whiny_ sort of way, but a healthy, emotionally in tune capacity.

You know, for a _guy_, anyway.

And _yes_, of course, he's pretty _handsome_, as well, and has the whole respectful toward others thing down pat, so . . . honestly, _so_ far, anyhow, I can't figure out a single thing wrong with him.

I mean, besides being a fellow _Royal_, that is.

But even _with_ that against him, I honestly wouldn't have known that he was had _Eli_ not said anything about it, seeing as he isn't at all what I'd originally thought he'd be.

You know, basically a _mini_ Eli, as frightening and _gross_ as that is to further think about.

If it were another world or lifetime, I'd just think that Lord Kimball was just another regular kid like I, myself, used to be, and who possibly went to my school or hung around my neighborhood, or something.

Or like the kind of guy I could go for. . . .

_Ahhhh!_

Moving on.

_Again_.

I _did_ spy a glance ol' _Eli's_ way after Lord Kimball and I had shared our . . . _whatever_ the heck you wanna call that was, and he surprisingly didn't look _as_ generally repulsed or vexed as I thought he would have.

You know, considering the _gigantic_ mess of the overall dinner I now feel that I'd made.

He merely gazed upon me with a neutral sort of expression and slight nod of his head within acknowledgment a moment, before returning his focus onto his _own_, similar dessert . . . and seemed to do so with _nearly_ as much joyous relish as that of my own.

Was Eli . . . a possibly _fellow_ "Chocoholic?"

While that _could_ have given him much needed points of his _own_, that is, within the respect and _tolerance_ department, it sadly does not, for the overall thought that he and I could share an otherwise _jovial_ interest and obsession such as that terrifies me _far_ too greatly. . . .

**Accompanied Beverage of Choice for Us All:** _'Merlot'_

**Description (one more time, **_**thankfully**_**, by the Servers): **_"I am sure that you will __each__ find that a __broad__ scope of fresh, __inviting__ flavors shall dominate this type of wine, such as blueberries, cherries, plums, and even blackberries mixed with just a __hint__ of cocoa and black-pepper tones. __Whatever__ will be the taste individually detected most, you will still find this particular red wine to be absolutely __superb__, especially when accompanied with your fine dessert. . . ."_

I know.

Wine even with chocolate?

Yep.

Even with chocolate.

But people seem to do that all the time in the movies, you know, right before "getting down and dirty," so I guess there must be something to it.

And besides, I was already ingesting mixed in _rum_, of all alcoholic beverages at the moment, so why _not_ some Merlot, as well?

Thank _God_ I wouldn't be _driving_ home, or I'd be _royally_ screwed . . . no pun intended.

But the Server-super-Wine-Expert _was_ right, though.

It really _did_ end up going pretty well with our unanimous dessert.

And I _did_ end up picking up the faint taste of berries and cocoa . . . although the cocoa bit _could_ have simply been leftover from the actual dish.

At _any_ rate, it had all gone down _smooooth_. . . .

Methinks I might start to incorporate a bit of wine with my meals within the near future, when I'm officially legal, that is.

Well, provided that someone picks them out _for_ me or _teaches_ me, 'cause otherwise I'll probably end up selecting truly _horrible_ ones . . . like that _Sauvignon Blanc_ character. . . .

Oh, right.

Nearly forgot.

My grade upon how I'd eaten my dessert.

**Eating Execution Personal Grade:** Who honestly _cares_ anymore? _I_ don't, and _didn't_, like I said, by that point.

Besides, it's _chocolate_.

I _always_ automatically receive a resounding "A-plus-_plus_" whenever I eat it, no matter _how_ I eat it.

Can't bring me down on _this_ one, Eli.

Can't bring me down.

**Impressing Either Lord Kimball or Emin Personal Grade:** _Also_ another, _marvelous_ "A-plus-plus," for the same reasons stated above.

That, _and_ because of those _clearly_ "Wow, is she super _hot_" looks the both of them had given me during such time.

_Clearly_.

C'est _fini!_

_Finally_.

I didn't think I could _lift_ any of my utensils again, let alone _use_ them to eat another bite of _anything_ . . . _ever_ . . . _again_.

That frozen chocolate dish had truly been _the_ perfect finish to my _less_ than perfect overall day and then later, _evening_.

Just the endorphin-releasing ticket I needed to finally _unwind_ me, as well.

At least, it had _started_ to, anyway, up until I'd caught the words "premiere television interview" coming out of Eli's annoying little mouth after our places had been cleared by our once again exiting Servers.

I _knew_ it had to be a trap, offering onto me such a brilliantly brilliant, edible _adventure_ as my final meal that night, right before I was then _ambushed_ by the greatly unwanted discussion of my very first televised event.

_That's_ probably why Eli had been so calm and collected while he ate the sugary sweet, as well, all the while thinking to himself, _Thaaat's right, my dear Wilhelmina . . . __enjoy__ your alcohol-laced chocolate. Be absolutely __content__ with it. Because by the time you've finished with it, you will not know __what__ hit you. . . ._

Such a sneaky, sneaky _bastard_, seriously!

I regrettably concede this match to _you_, old man.

Although, to be a _tiny_ bit fair (which he naturally does _not_ deserve), Eli _did_ already more or less warn me that this would happen, anyway, when we'd bumped into one another earlier this morning . . . and indeed that was also a part of why Emin had been invited to join us, as well. . . .

Bleh.

_Still_ sneaky, though, I don't care _what_ you say.

Oh, yeah.

Just in case you had been wondering about whatever it was all of us might have discussed throughout the entire meal, Journal, you know, on the whole . . . nothing.

Not _really_, anyway.

I mean, _I_ didn't say much of anything, except mainly that "Is there rum in this chocolate?" question, which I guess might have also been why both Emin and Lord Kimball had found said inquiry to be so comical, I don't know.

From what I could tell on and off, anyhow, _Eli_ seemed to be doing most of the talking (as _always_), either singularly, or as a united front, with various complimenting comments about the food we were all eating, or miscellaneous tidbits about his _beloved_ country which he evidently felt should have been noteworthy.

Not for _me_, it wasn't.

So long as he hadn't dragged me into his multitude of conversations, which he thankfully hadn't, then I was fine. (Although he probably hadn't bothered to do so, one, because he most likely figured, _What the Hell can __she__ bring to the table of discussion, really?_, and two, he might have wanted me to have as little distractions as possible, so that I could better focus upon my "test." Focus upon _failing_ it, more like it, as I'm now pretty certain about.)

Anyhow.

Back to the now uncomfortable situation at hand . . . _again_.

"Yes, of _course_, Your Majesty; I _do_ agree that Princess Wilhelmina's premiere television interview shall be one to remember for many ages to come!" I heard Emin say with a broad grin, once my ears were fully functional again. "I have, as we've earlier discussed, outlined a few inquiries which I believe will be suitable for answer; I _do_ hope that both you _and_ The Princess are pleased with them."

I raised my hand at this, like I was still stuck inside one of my classes.

"Erm . . . yeah, except that I'm _not_, since I never _got_ any outline of questions," I said without hesitation or filter, _clearly_ the uncharacteristic overdose of alcohol coursing through my insides continually working its magic on me. "But I don't really think that I'll like them even _after_ I read them, anyway, seeing as I never actually _agreed_ to doing this 'greatly anticipated' interview."

Wow.

Yep.

That _had_ been said aloud, and _not_ within my head, _or_ at least said solely to _Eli_ during our one-on-one moments.

I guess I can _definitely_ kiss my would-be romance with Mr. Emin Evgar goodbye after _that_.

Especially since he actually looked _hurt_ right then, like a disappointed parent or teacher, before his beautiful face flattened into one of rejected insult, like an unexpectedly dumped _boyfriend_ . . . _or_ like I had just spit into the remainder of his glass of Merlot, which was gently being clasped in between his fingers by the stem.

_Oh_, yeah.

'_I loved you yesterday . . . and yesterday's gone. . . ._'

_Seriously_. . . .

I can definitely understand _now_ why everyone else at the table then looked at me with widened, "Did she just say what I _think_ she just said?" eyes, but right _then_, still rapidly becoming under the influence, I'd simply raised an eyebrow at it.

I mean, it was _true_, after all.

I really _didn't_ want to do this interview.

I don't even honestly wish to do _Irma's_ interview.

And I'd _already_ gotten bombarded by _her_ about that earlier that day, so naturally I wasn't up for _another_ similar round, this time more "professional" like.

I can honestly say that if there hadn't been so many witnesses at the time, Eli probably would have leaped clear across the table, "uncivilized manner" be damned, and _throttled_ me.

Instead, though, he did, true to form, his usual tightened smile, before suddenly rising from his seat.

"A-Ah! _Always_ presenting us all with such . . . _colorful_ amusement, Princess Wilhelmina! How _droll_, indeed!" he said with a brief nod towards me, before extending his arms out to the rest of his guests. "_Now_, then! Perhaps we should all take our leave of this courteous institution, and adjourn to my Presidential Suite for a bit of coffee!"

_Man_, is that guy seriously prepared for pretty much _any_ sort of disaster, social or otherwise.

I _still_ wasn't really seeing the big deal over what I'd previously said, but didn't say anything more after that.

Not until we'd all gotten back to the hotel, anyway.

_Until_ then, that was a "should-have-been-a-_lot_-more-awkward-than-it-had-actually-been" limousine ride, considering it now housed both Lord Kimball (who _did_ appear to look a bit uncomfortable enough to me, when I'd look at him from time to time at his place next to an even faced Eli), _and_ a still slightly brooding _Emin_ (who'd seemed to prefer sitting as far away from me as possible, and even _Mom_ this time. I guess the "Honeymoon" was now over for the two of _them_, as well).

That, and my obvious "Every little thing is gonna be all right" cruise of intoxication I was still very much on.

Why does it always have to require _some_ form of Substance abuse before anyone's inhibitions lower to non-existent levels?

Well, that's what it always seems like to _me_, anyway, given that I _am_ still a teenager and, besides _Cornelia_ and perhaps _Irma_ . . . and _maybe_ Hay Lin . . . oh, and definitely _Ryan_ (I _think_, anyway. I mean, seeing as I don't really know her yet and about what may or may not go on behind closed doors), just about every _other_ person I know of is usually _ridiculously_ too second guessing to _ever_ speak up and say precisely what is on his or her mind.

Persons around _my_ age, anyway.

Oh.

And _Eddie_.

To add him to my list of enviously confident young people.

. . . . And _Eric_.

_Okay!_

So then _clearly_ it's just mainly _me_ who has the issue, while everyone _else_ has their acts together!

_Whatever!_

Right then, at least, I couldn't have cared less.

Especially since I was starting to _also_ feel the "Itis" taking effect, as well.

A nice, warm bubble bath, maybe a good book, and then off to "Dreamland" was the only thing _I _was looking forward to once we arrived back to the Plaza.

But of course that's not what I immediately _got_.

Nope.

It was still "Mingling Time" with our guests, even though it was pretty clear that the atmosphere had drastically changed by then, what with my truthful admittance. (Since when are we meant to be _persecuted_ for speaking the truth? And for someone like _me_, that's a pretty big deal when and _if_ such an event happens.)

And so, _because_ of my brief candidness, Eli spent the rest of that evening doing immediate social damage control with Emin, and for Lord Kimball, apologizing profusely on my behalf (as though I really _wasn't_ within the main area of the suite, "enjoying" a piping hot cup of coffee with everyone _else_ seated around me and bodyguards scattered about again), and that I would have to be excused, _naturally_, as I had had a rather strenuous day and thus was only _now_ starting to feel the aftereffects of it.

At least my _mom_ had stuck up for me, within true Mom fashion, although also with a "diplomatic" approach to it, if only for the sake of our continued guests. (Because otherwise, we all know that she would have probably _railed_ into Eli for once _again_ pretty much insulting her daughter, _and_ trying to make her out to be some hapless creature. Yay for moms.)

She'd countered with citing the fact that I _had_ also been given _quite_ a bit of alcohol, which is something that _neither_ of us within our personal household have ever imbibed much of, _especially_ not me (which, like I said before, _is_ true, but I guess Mom was just making sure to put extra emphasis upon it for "P.R.'s" sake, or something, just in case).

Not to mention the fact that I hadn't been able to eat much of anything prior to that dinner (which was true . . . _sort_ of, anyway), and that I am basically an extreme _Lightweight_ (although she had put it within far more flattering words).

You _tell_ 'em, Mom.

After she had done so, Emin, even _Eli_ seemed to be much more at ease and even satisfied with such an explanation (because after all, who would know better of the conditions and limitations of a child than a _mother_, right?), before looking upon me with undeniable _pity_.

_Thanks_.

Lord Kimball, at least, didn't seem to feel the same way.

That is, that he could reach across the coffee table and gently pat me upon the head within sympathy, or something.

No.

He just smiled warmly towards me a moment, before slowly raising his warm, fancy coffee cup to his lips and took a quiet, small sip.

And when he did that, he _immediately_ reminded me of _Caleb_, again. . . .

You know, like how _he_ had sort of done the same earlier that day at _The Silver Dragon_, in between taking a sip of his tea.

The "Sexy Cup Glance," remember?

Yeah.

And just like how it had sent shivers down my spine to have witnessed such a look from the brunet, it _then_ had the same effect on me when the _blonde_ did it, as well . . . especially since that was right about when I was awarded another ample inhalation of his _glorious_ cologne, thanks to his renewed movements.

_Ahhh!_

This has _got_ to stop!

Not to mention the _last_ thing I want to do is to start associating Lord Kimball with _Caleb!_

Because then the respect I currently possess for him (Lord Kimball) will _instantly_ evaporate, and I'll just start to hate _him_ the way I hate that _jerk_ of an ex-Rebel Leader.

And that wouldn't honestly be fair to the guy, since he's so far been pretty cool, and sweet and likeable. . . .

_God!_

I'm doing it _again!_

I _cannot_ start to have feelings for Lord Kimball!

It just wouldn't work out!

I mean, we come from two, completely, _completely_ different ballparks, for starters.

And the other, more _important_ factor?

_Eli_ clearly intended upon setting the two of us together, whether or not he'll admit once I officially interrogate him about it later today, probably.

I _refuse_ to give that man any sort of satisfaction, even if Lord Kimball would turn out to be my absolute _soulmate_.

_Whoa_.

Where'd _that_ come from?

Didn't have to go _that_ far with it, Will.

After all, you _just_ met the guy, and it isn't as though you're even super _sure_ that he's interested in you, anyway, even _with_ his slight dalliances from time to time.

And besides, you two _totally_ have _nothing_ in common.

. . . . Okay, so that's not entirely true.

I mean, _negating_ the whole "Blue Blood" common trait going for us, and everything.

Seeing as the previous "fire" had been effectively put out by my mom, and because I was "clearly" not within any sort of correct mindset to further discuss it with them, Eli decided to continue on within the inevitable interview conversation with a returned-to-normal looking Emin, and with Mom as my apparent substitute.

They were better off doing so, _anyhow_, seeing as I didn't really think that anything _I'd_ have to say about it further, drunk _or_ sober, would honestly matter.

And at least now, just in case anything of the "out of line" variety may have been put onto the table as one of Emin's intended questions, Mom was right there to set him - _And_ Eli straight.

Seeing as she was on a roll tonight, I didn't doubt that for a second.

And so, that left only Lord Kimball and me to talk . . . or _not_ to talk.

That really _had_ been the question at first, upon having excused ourselves away from the coffee table and allowed the "Big People" to gab away.

Well, actually, _I_ had excused myself, _alone_, mainly because I didn't want to continue to sit there and be talked about like I didn't exist, _and_ because I didn't want to hear any more about that damned interview.

I was only _just_ starting to feel minutely better, thanks to the strong coffee I (or my _mom_, rather) had pretty much forced myself to drink; I didn't want a _relapse_.

But as soon as I got up and started to carefully walk towards the roaring fireplace ("carefully," because despite being more or less drunk, I had yet to endure another one of my "Clumsy Moments" within my high heels in all that time, so I figured that I was by now _well_ overdo), I suddenly hear Lord Kimball go, "P-Please allow me to accompany you, Princess Wilhelmina!"

I just stared a bit blankly at him as I turned my head a moment, before murmuring a soft, ". . . . All right" and continued on my - On _our_ way.

. . . . You know, I'm pretty surprised that Eli had invited Lord Kimball up to the suite.

I mean, with _Emin_ it wasn't exactly a super super big deal, considering that he's already been here before, and is "a lot" older . . . sadly.

But _Lord Kimball _is around my age, is _much_ more famous (I guess, I don't know), and is _already_ the subject of much speculation in regards to whether or not he may one day become my _Royal Consort_, or something (thanks to all of those annoying _Paparazzi_, who'd patiently waited, within the absolute zero weather _and_ the entire hour and a half we were all still inside _Le Beau Exp__é__rience_, _just_ to repetitively ask if Lord Kimball and I will be seeing one another again, _and_ more regularly from now on).

Surely he (Eli) didn't want to have to fan the flames of yet _another_ scandalous fiasco, and so soon, after the first one which had _also_ been his fault.

You know, when he'd publicly "outed" me, _himself_, like the idiot he is.

But I guess since he figured that he'd be present to "chaperone," what could be the harm?

Whatever.

At _any_ rate, so Lord Kimball and I are now standing before the deliciously warm fireplace, _sans_ coffee cups, and I'm doing my best to keep my focus upon the open flames before the two of us, and _not_ the fact that his damned cologne is continually driving me _insane_.

And he's standing next to me at my left, all perfect posture-like and hands clasped leisurely together behind his back, while _I'm_ busy assuming the position which was sort of reminiscent of the pose I had taken outside of the restaurant before entering. (Thank _God_ Eli had seemed to be too enthralled within his discussion with my mom and Emin, otherwise I'm sure he would have shouted out another one of his typical "Mon _Dieu!_"'s at me before finally calling it a night.)

Neither of us had said a word for a couple of slightly awkward moments, before we finally _did_, and at the same time.

"Did you -!" we both said simultaneously, turning towards one another, before promptly cutting ourselves off and turning away to face the fireplace again.

_Oh_, yeah.

My senses were _definitely_ starting to return to me more and more by then, because my stomach was instantly beginning to knot up within embarrassment, while Lord Kimball's pale face once again became inflamed due to a similar sentiment, I'm sure.

"_S-Sorry_ . . . you go first," I weakly apologized, turning my head to gaze up at him again.

". . . . O-Oh, well . . . I was simply going to ask if you had enjoyed your meal this evening, if I may be so bold as to ask, Princess Wilhelmina," he replied with one of his now familiar, crooked, closed lipped smiles, his cheeks growing more flush.

I blinked within a bit of surprise at this, and softly smiled back at him.

"Yeah? That's actually what _I_ was just about to ask _you_, as well, Lord Kimball," I revealed, before the two of us lightly chuckled.

"I . . . suppose, then, that you and I are perhaps in sync, Princess Wilhelmina," Lord Kimball remarked with another smile, his hazel eyes curiously twinkling while I realized that, yet again, he was doing one of his undercover flirtations.

Damn, you really _are_ good, man.

Trying my best to hide my flustering nature as a result of his having done so, I pushed on ahead to finally answer his question.

"U-Um . . . I _did_ enjoy my meal, thank you, Lord Kimball, and I hope you did, as well_. _Oh, and please, _do_ just call me '_Will_.' No matter _what_ my uncle says, that _is_ the name I prefer," I told the briefly startled looking blonde standing next to me with another smile, this time within reassurance, before he, too, seemed to relax.

". . . . If you don't mind my saying so, I have to admit that I rather . . . _admire_ your directness, Prin - E-Er, _W-Will_. . . ." Lord Kimball confessed gently, before suddenly grinning, as though someone had just said something super funny. "That is, if you'll forgive my having 'kept track,' firstly, you had indeed asked me to refer to you as such during our introductions . . . before The King had _amended_ your request. And then, secondly, there was your open expression over not desiring to conduct an interview with Mr. Evgar, which I will say _is_ a bit understandable, given that they _can_ be rather nerve-wracking. . . . I suppose, then, that The King had been quite _correct_ within his collection of descriptions about you throughout our private correspondences. . . ."

I immediately raised an eyebrow at this, feeling more so _offended_ than abashed, but only because I was once again starting to think the worst over _whatever_ it was Eli had been writing about me to this dude.

Evidently catching and then understanding my current facial expression, Lord Kimball quickly shook his head and smiled faintly before adding, "I-I certainly did not mean for that to be _distressing_, or indeed that anything which has been illustrated to me by The King to have been negative, as well!"

Relaxing a tiny bit, and now feeling more curious than ever, I slowly asked, "So, then . . . what _did_ he say about me?"

_This_ oughta be good.

Lord Kimball paused a moment, momentarily looking over his shoulder as though to make certain that we were not being eavesdropped, before turning back to me.

". . . . Well, and I hope that The King will forgive the slight betrayal of confidence here, but . . . _mostly?_ He has been telling me all about how truly _spirited_ you are . . . _and_ how devoted you are to your mother, Princess Almira, and she to _you_ . . . and how wonderfully independent and _bright_ you are," he quietly revealed with another smile, this time within reflection, as though he could see Eli's written words clear as day within his mind. "_And_ . . . he has said that the . . . near resilient, forthcoming nature you possess, never seeming to be so easily swayed by the opinions or decisions of others will make you a _fine_ ruler over the citizens of Marsily one day . . . and now that I have met you, _myself_, I believe that I am quite inclined to _agree_. . . ."

. . . . Wow.

Did . . . Eli _really_ say all of that about me?

_Me?_

_Eli?_

I thought that my "never seeming to be so easily swayed by the opinions or decisions of others" is what always _pisses_ him off the _most_ about me.

_Now_ it's a trait, one of _many_, evidently, that he _admires_ about me?

Nooo, no no.

I _can't_ handle this.

Information _Overload_.

Eli and me, _and_ our "relationship" is about as "_natural"_ as water and electricity.

We just _don't_ mix.

I'd _just_ gotten over the brief, although _palpable_ fear that he _might_ actually like me earlier, when I was thinking that that was part of the reason why he might be trying to set me up with Lord Kimball!

But _now_ I'm positively _terrified_, since it seems to be actual _fact!_

I feel like everything around me is suddenly changing even _more_, now, and seeing as I'm barely surviving the _first_ change at the moment, I highly doubt I will for _this_.

I _just_ want my old life back, already. . . .

Too stunned by the unexpected news that my uncle actually . . . _didn't_ detest me as much as I'd always thought, I couldn't only murmur, "T-Th . . Thank you, Lord Kimball. . . .", before he, clearly unaware of my inner turmoil, simply smiled back with a growing blush.

Looking away from me a second, Lord Kimball then returned his gaze onto me and said, "If . . . that is, provided that it would be all right with you, you are more than welcome to simply refer to me as '_Kendrick_,' should you like. . . . I imagine that having called me 'Lord Kimball' - Indeed, keeping up with the various, more appropriate protocol which has now entered your life so suddenly _has_ been rather stifling. . . ."

I blinked within further surprise at this, unsure of precisely how to respond, lest I end up offending him, considering such "protocol," as he put it, has most probably always been a part of his _own_ life, in contrast.

"O-Oh, um . . . well, it's still taking quite a bit of getting used to, to say the least, yeah . . . _Kendrick_, thank you," I said cautiously with a tiny nod, before looking towards the blazing fire once more.

I must have looked pretty bummed about that right then, because Lord Kim - Er, _Kendrick_ suddenly goes, "Hmm. . . . Well, for what it is worth, I think that you seem to be adjusting quite well, all things considered, Will, and that . . . that you truly do _look_ every bit of the radiant princess which you are. . . ."

Holy.

_Hell_.

This is just continually coming straight out of a romantic movie, I _swear_.

Kendrick hasn't even openly _admitted_, "Oh, hey, yeah, I _totally_ like you" yet, if at _all_, for that matter, and I've _already_ been complimented and flattered by him more than _Matt_ had when _he_ had fessed up to having liked me, himself, long ago.

I think I might have actually _hated_ myself just a tiny bit later on if I _hadn't_ woken up early this morning to record everything that had happened between the two of us, after all, seeing as it's just _way_ too surreal. . . .

"Uh . . . uh. . . ." was all I could say within response, like the _doofus_ I honestly am, my mouth opening and closing like a damned _fish_.

"Radiant princess," indeed.

Kendrick didn't seem to mind, though, as he just awarded me a toothy grin this time, before shaking his head a little in embarrassment, and looked down at his well polished shoes.

"I . . . I probably shouldn't have been so presumptuous like that, thinking that you'd want to hear that," he said with another, nervous chuckle, before looking back up at me. "But . . . I _am_ glad that I have, finally, as I'd wanted to compliment your overall appearance since I'd first laid eyes on you . . . I-I mean -"

"- _Thank_ you, Kendrick," I finally managed to sputter out, blushing furiously as I saved the both of us furthered abashment right then. Feeling I should definitely return the favor (although it wasn't hard, considering it _was_ the truth), I also added, "And _I_ . . . _I_ wanted to say that _you_ look good, yourself - _Handsome!_ I mean you look _handsome_ . . . sorry. . . ."

After that, the two of us seemed to reach a silent, understanding _need_ to change the subject, so after a few moments of being unsure of what to say next, we did the "getting to know you" conversation.

Well, picked up where we left off, anyway, with this time more being revealed about _myself_.

Turns out that we _both_ like animals, although perhaps not within the same ferocious level (especially not about _frogs_ when I admitted my basic obsession with them, seeing as Kendrick's nose sort of wrinkled at the mention of them, but he still smiled about my natural enthusiasm), with Kendrick's favorite being doves.

I absently told him that that was cool, since I think they're Marsily's mascot or something, or _whatever_, and he only grinned, before choosing to bypass my admittedly ignorant comment and go on to say that while he finds every breed to be truly majestic, he's a bit partial to the "Ringneck" primarily because he _owns_ one . . . a _girl_, since he was eleven-years-old, and calls it "Ring Ring."

How adorable _is_ that?

I mean, a bit giggly worthy, the name, but _still_ really adorable.

And, of course, his admitted attachment to the beautiful creature. . . .

I also learned that we have similar tastes within music, as well, which surprised me, since I naturally assumed that someone like him would enjoy nothing but _Classical_ music.

And I guess Kendrick must have sensed that, because he lightly teased me by asking if I honestly thought as much, which I shyly confessed to.

"It _is_ a genre I _do_ have great respect for, of course, and listen to on occasion whenever the mood strikes me, however I must admit that I've recently found myself growing rather fond of one particular singer my university roommate seems to fancy, himself: '_Karmilla_, I believe," he revealed, which made me giggle a bit uncontrollably at.

When he asked what was so amusing about that, I explained to him that Karmilla's been Irma's _idol_ since our _middle school_ years, and that if she (Irma) were here with us now, she'd probably immediately try to induct him into the ongoing fan club she'd personally established years ago.

"Well, then . . . I would be _honored_," Kendrick said with a grin of his own, before going on to compliment Irma, and how she sounds rather interesting.

That's when we transitioned into talking more about me and _my_ life, or, at least, my _old_ life, and what I would do on any average day.

You know, for fun or whatever.

It _did_ make me feel a little sad to focus "once more upon yesteryear" like that, but it also made me feel pretty _good_, as well.

I mean, I mainly spoke about all of the things the girls and I have done since I first moved here to Heatherfield (obviously negating our _Guardian_ duties), and how things within _that_ regard, at least, is pretty much the same, thankfully.

"They sound like truly _wonderful_ companions, Will; your life has _always_ been blessed, regardless, it seems," Kendrick complimented in kind with another smile, this one being his traditional closed lipped variety, however quite relaxed and warm, in contrast to the usual timidity which would follow. "Perhaps I can meet them all one day . . . that is, assuming that I meet _you_ again after this. . . ."

I couldn't help but look up at him within surprise at this, before grinning sheepishly and lightly nodded.

". . . . O-Oh, uh . . . that might be nice," I softly replied with a growing blush, blindly reaching up to tuck a stray strand of my hair behind my left ear.

I felt my cheeks growing even _hotter_ when I caught Kendrick watching me do so, with what looked like honest _entrancement_ flickering within his eyes.

WHY COULDN'T CALEB HAVE BEEN THIS WAY WITH ME?

. . . . Okay, let me stop doing that.

"And . . . _if_ that happens, then perhaps I will make my _own_ 'Chocolate Marquise' to bring, seeing as it appeared as though you truly enjoyed _yours _ earlier, back at the restaurant . . . although perhaps _this_ one shall be _sans_ alcohol," he added suddenly, before the two of us shared a coy sort of laugh at that.

After that, it was pretty much miscellaneous small talk for a little while longer, until we were unexpectedly interrupted by a curiously beaming Eli, (Insert _shiver_ here) who announced that Emin was leaving.

Then, after looking at the hanging clock within the room, Kendrick finally realized the time for himself, and agreed that _he_ should retire back to his _own_ hotel (where he was staying for his weekend visit to Heatherfield), as well.

. . . . And that was _finally_ that.

Absolutely _the_ longest day of my life, I kid you not.

But _somehow_, I'd managed to survive it . . . more or less.

_Now_, I just have to figure out how to deal with all of the newfound _feelings_ I'm experiencing . . . about Eli . . . about _Kendrick_ . . . about the sickening anticipation of my upcoming _interview_ with Emin . . . _and_ about whatever _God-awful _thing the media will have to say about my dinner outing.

But, for _now_, at least, all of that can be a problem for later.

_Right_ now, however, I think I might try to go back to sleep . . . _and_ maybe dream about a few _blondes_ for a change. . . .

**- End of Chapter Fifty-Two (Part Two)**

* * *

**(A.N. THANK YOU, LORD! Or Lord Kimball! HeHe Done, done, done! WOO HOO! 53 pages for technically 53 chapters, but I did it! * Collapses ***

**But I always hate this point, because I always end up forgetting about the things I may have wished to touch upon.**

**Meh. I'll wing it. LoL**

**Well, for starters, I don't own the song "Yesterday's Gone" by Chad & Jeremy. You know, when Will had briefly quoted a line from the chorus while lamenting the 'loss' of Emin...or her chances with him, anyway. =p**

**Oh, and I know it's "Dr. Dolittle," not "Dr. Didlittle" like how I wrote, but as always, we're just doing the careful thing so's we don't get sued. LoL**

**And how adorable IS Kendrick, though, seriously?**

**C'monnnn...be honest, here. LoL**

**Regardless of any of your guys' personal romantic preferences for Will in this story, be it with Eddie, as I'm noticing that's becoming a growing interest for a fair amount of you, 'my' version of Matt, MARTIN, like one person had admitted would be cute to see, and of course, Caleb, naturally, as, again, I DO have to reiterate that YES, this IS a Caleb/Will story...even if I do seem to enjoy toying with the poor girl's heart. LoL **

**I'd always planned on incorporating a semi-kinda love interest of sorts into the mix for Will, simply to keep things continually interesting, as well as to give the girl some HOPE for a change, damn it! You know, that, YES, you ARE 'likeable,' Will! And you CAN find 'love' again after Caleb, or at least a new boyfriend again after Matt.**

**Yeesh. LoL**

**And methinks she's starting to realize that, judging by the way she'd kept reacting to pretty much everything Kenny would say to her. =)**

**Ah. I just realized now that that was the same name as Mia's poor schlub of a secret admirer-turned-boyfriend, Kenny. LoL But NO, that's not at all why I'd named Kendrick 'Kendrick,' so that he can be nicknamed that or anything, or be anything CLOSE to similar within personality to the kid.**

**But methinks that that's already been pretty much established, for those who are at least vaguely familiar with 'TPD' books.**

**'My' Ken is, like so many other 'OCs' in this story, based off of someone within my personal life. Joey, which I'd mentioned fleetingly in another A/N, about him having been my crush and vice versa back in high school, and that's why 'MY' Mary couldn't stand me, because she wanted him, as well...hence the similar dynamics going on between this story's Mary, Will, and Matt, yeah.**

**Anyway, I mainly based Ken-Ken's looks upon Joey, although the two do also share that crooked, shy smile, and general timidness. At least, when Joey and I had first gotten to know one another and the attraction began to set in, anyway. =p**

**Ah, young love. LoL**

**ANYHOW!**

**But the rest of his persona and interests, like being a Vegetarian – Which, as Will had already stated for me, more or less, as she did so for herself, I've absolutely nothing against, so no thinking that HeHe – and his career focus, blah blah, I just pulled off the top of my head. Why? I don't know. Because 'he' told me to while I was creating him, his family members, and country's back-story...which I will probably have Will look up, after all, and write about within a future entry of hers, yeah...**

**Bah. LoL**

**Oh, yeah, and his ridiculously intoxicating cologne that made Will go weak in the knees. LoL**

**'My' Kendrick, or Joey, rather, would always put on that yummy "Aspen" cologne, which he KNEW made me melt and thus, he kept spraying it in, sometimes right in front of me. LoL**

**NOW, however, I'm super obsessed with my hubby's personal cologne choice, "Jean Paul Gaultier." Yeah, the one shaped like a super hot guy's naked torso, yeah.**

**And female torsos, as well, but whatever on that one. LoL**

**Extra kudos on the first one, though, my good man. =)**

**Anyway!**

**Oh, oh, again. LoL **

**Yes, as I'm sure a lot of you probably caught, Will's presumption about Caleb and his thoughts about perfumes and such had been from the "Happy Birthday, Will" episode, mmhm. GOD I love that would-be Will/Caleb overall moment episode... LoL**

**Moving on!**

**To the Vegetarianism, I mean.**

**My placing my personal non-thrill about Kendrick's main dish choice, the 'Port Wine Seitan,' onto Will and making it her OWN 'non-thrill,' is not at ALL me using that as an extension to say anything ill against Vegetarians, I say again, and cannot stress enough, just to be on the safe side. =)**

**I've tried the dish once...a bite, and after getting over the initial look of it, since it, or at least the one presented to me by a friend back in college, really did look how Will had described it, it was so so.**

**I liked the mushrooms, anyway.**

**Oh, and the mashed potatoes, again, like Will. LoL**

**But...yeah. Need me some meat.**

**Meat-meat, not...forget it. LoL**

**Moving on! =)**

**Ooh! Kendrick's pet dove, and naming her 'Ring Ring' I owe all to my adorable hubby. HeHe Although it was also to be kinda clever, I mean about the aminul's breed name, and all.**

**PROBABLY shouldn't have just said that, considering every time we talk about her name and how I always giggle uncontrollably about it, it usually upsets him within the embarrassed sense, momentarily. =)**

**I keep telling him that I'm not laughing at HIM, OR the particular thing he'd named 'Ring Ring' which, no, wasn't a dove.**

**It's because whenever I say her name, I say it within my 'Heffer' voice from "Rocko's Modern Life," which he naturally has no clue about, hailing from England and all...and how there was one particular episode where 'Heffer' and 'Filburt' were trying desperately to win wrestling tickets, and had a whole fleet of black telephones within Fil's mobile home so they could quadruple their chances. =)**

"**With Friends Like These," for those of you interested within watching the episode...or hell, the entire series, since it was so kick ass...like so MANY of the shows back in the '90s, unlike the garbage nowadays.**

**ANYWAY, and then finally one of the phones started to ring, and by then Heffer's brain, which usually was pretty fried, anyway, was absolutely gone by then, and he was all, "...It's ring-ging...Fil, do you hear it? ...It's ring-ging..." all dazed and shit. LoL**

**Sooo...yeah!**

**So whenever Gray-Ham talks about his precious girl, Ring Ring, that's why I burst out into a fit of giggles.**

**That, and because, like I said, I promptly mimic good ol' Heff's warped voice in that moment. HeHe**

**I'm a goofball, I know. LoL**

**ANYHOW!**

**Soooo, so much to address with this chapter so I can just get it out of the way, like I normally do so as not to deal with questions from anyone, and I don't remember! Well, the specifics, anyway.**

**Meh. LoL**

**But no, I'm not gonna turn Miss-Super-Lightweight-Like-Me Will into an alcoholic now, now that she doesn't seem to hate wine as much as before. =)**

**Seeing as 'this' Will takes a lot of personal views and preferences from me – Mainly to make my life a lot easier LoL – that would be a paradox or something, seeing as I still hate wine, alcohol in general, really, myself, and only really care for Merlot.**

**But I have tasted the other ones listed, as well, before, and how she felt about each is pretty much how I do, myself...Now I could kinda go for some wine...**

**Wahhh, it's starting!**

**Lemme go make some cocoa, instead, since it's FINALLY cooling down a bit within the weather over here, and let YOOZE guys finally click the review button! HeHe**

**And then we shall all meet back here, my lovelies, for another exciting, hopefully not-so-long-to-wait-for update!) **


End file.
